


Oasis

by MoyaKite



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Desert, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Bath Houses, F/M, Kissing, M/M, Politics, Polyamory, Slow Build, i'm probably missing some tags, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:12:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 33,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1271119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoyaKite/pseuds/MoyaKite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an irradiated desert after the end of the world, a small kingdom persists. The final oasis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The air crackled, so arid that it tasted like dust in Rei's mouth. He blamed that and not his nerves for the dryness of his mouth. He'd been born to scholars, but he'd aspired to life as a guard in the palace. A few thousand people lived in their small kingdom, but only the prince reigned above his guards.

Rei pushed up his glasses as he stood before the palace gates. He'd found them in a battered case out in the sands. Relics of a time before the war that had reduced the fertile continent to a barren desert, he'd been lucky to find a pair that helped.

A man with red hair and golden eyes slid the door open and arched an eyebrow at him.

“Captain Mikoshiba!” Rei saluted immediately. “I hope I haven't kept you waiting.”

The captain's face relaxed. “Nah, you're right on time.” He stepped to one side and held an arm out to welcome Rei. “Come on in.”

Rei stepped inside and thought of the guard he'd seen so many years before. After witnessing the incredibly graceful takedown of an assassin while the king—may he rest in peace—had yet ruled their kingdom, he had known he would settle for no other occupation. But Captain Mikoshiba seemed to have none of the features he'd expected of a person in such an elegant role. He certainly had the muscles of a honed athlete, but he had the brash manner of a street merchant.

“The prince is taking it easy right now,” Mikoshiba said, closing the door behind Rei. “Don't expect things to be this easy every day. He's had a rough week, that's all.”

“I will do whatever is necessary,” Rei said. He saluted again, this time so sharply that he smudged his glasses. His face grew hot as Mikoshiba laughed.

“That's the spirit.” He grinned and clapped Rei on the back, pushing him down the hall. “Just keep an eye on him for now. He's entertaining guests right now.”

Rei had memorized the floor plan to the entire palace in preparation for his first day. As he walked down the long halls, he mentally reviewed the protocol he'd need to follow. Always remain within arm's reach of the prince while on duty. Scan the room regularly, they'd said—so vague! Some time trials had reassured him that, with appropriate peripheral vision, one quick scan every eight seconds would ensure the best possible safety standards for his prince.

He hesitated outside the chamber where the prince invited guests—merchants of high rank, typically, although his orders had mentioned foreign dignitaries as a possibility. He heard music playing on the far side of the door, and decided to refrain from knocking. It was his _job_ to go into the room. Who had the authority to grant him permission?

Straightening his back, he slid the door open and admitted himself. Thirty or so women and men had gathered in the room, most in garb befitting people visiting royalty—save one. A dancer in  an open vest and loose, flowing pants.

Rei's eyes locked onto the dancer. He had soft, blond curls  and a youthful face, but only those who were of age were permitted to dance for the prince.  His footwork belied his considerable training; Rei had never seen anyone move so precisely. The dance and the dancer were one—Rei had the impossible impression that the dance had come into existence just to flow through this one perfect dancer. The joy on the young man's face staggered Rei.

And then the dancer looked at him, and something like electricity sent shocks across his skin. Merely static electricity, he told himself—he'd brushed against a table and the electrons had—

The dancer wound his way over to Rei, whose breath caught.  Was he supposed to speak? Was he supposed to join the dance? He would shame the dancer if he tried. Though he'd trained extensively for guard duty, he couldn't possibly dance so freely that his feet ceased to truly touch the floor.

When the dancer held out a hand, though, Rei took it.

“Hey there, handsome.” The dancer winked. “I've never seen you before. I'd remember those pretty eyes.”

“Rei!” he blurted. “I—I'm Rei Ryuugazaki.”

“Well, I'm Nagisa.” The dancer drew him toward the center of the room and beamed. “And I think you're g- _rei_ -t.” Nagisa cracked up and spun once in what appeared to be the purest form of delight before prodding Rei toward the wall. “I'll let you look after little Rin, though.”

“Little?” Rei repeated, too stunned by the pun and the abrupt end of his dance. He looked behind him to see the incredibly unamused prince glaring at him. The realization that the entire room had been watching hit him like a bucket of cold water. “Y-your majesty,” he said, immediately dropping into a bow. “I am—”

“Glasses, we all heard your name,” the prince snapped. His teeth looked inhumanly sharp, and Rei gulped. “Now unless you want to pat down my dancer to 'check for a knife,' get the hell out of the way.”

“Y-yessir!”

Cold sweat dotted Rei's palms as he stood at attention behind the prince.  Had anyone asked him yesterday what he most wanted, he would have answered, 'to serve the king beautifully.'

But, rather than scanning the hall, his eyes remained on Nagisa. He'd seen hawks lock talons and dive to the earth below in a graceful sweep. With all his heart, he longed to take Nagisa's hands and join him in his dance.

 


	2. Chapter 2

As the sun set, the heat eased away from the palace. Rin would never go to bed without prodding; it had taken a lot of convincing to even get him to rest. Makoto knew how Nagisa worried about their old friend; taking up the king's mantle at such a young age had changed him. Where enthusiasm had marked his childhood studies, now a deep self-loathing seemed to skulk about the edges of his ever-increasing drive to work _harder_ –to rule _better_.

“Excuse me.” Makoto shot a warm smile at the cleaning boy he'd been speaking to. “I have to go attend to the prince. Go ask Ildain for some citrus—that should help your little sister feel better.”

On his way to Rin's chambers, however, he spotted the young man Nagisa had been teasing all night—Rei. He stood with his back to a wall as a senior member of the guard advanced on him.

“Hey, Glasses.” The senior guard sneered. “Sneaking off to sweet talk the little dancer?”

“I—I am doing no such thing.” Rei pushed up his glasses, and Makoto noticed his hand shake. “The captain of the guard requested that I—”

The senior guard's face turned furious, and he shoved Rei back against the wall.

“Now, now,” Makoto said, careful to keep his voice warm and soothing. “What's all the fuss about?”

“Makoto!” the guard stepped back, and Makoto finally recognized him as the rage left his face.

“Sikar.” Makoto arched his eyebrows. “I didn't think _you'd_ be the one bullying our new friend.”

Guilt crossed Sikar's face, and he backed down, looking at the floor. “Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking.”

“Maybe you need to go see the kitchen staff—you get a little short-tempered when you're hungry.” Makoto smiled as Sikar nodded and darted away. Turning toward Rei, he sighed. “I'm sorry that happened on your first day here.”

Rei pushed up his glasses again. “Such behavior is unbecoming for a guard,” he said. “It is not _beautiful_ to shove people around.”

Makoto chuckled. “Sikar's not ill-spirited. He just has some trouble making friends.”

“I wonder why.” Rei rolled his eyes, then looked Makoto up and down. “Forgive me, but I don't believe we've been introduced.”

“Makoto Tachibana.” He offered his hand, which Rei took. “Rei Ryuugazaki, right? New member of the guard?”

A proud grin spread across Rei's face, and he pushed up his glasses for the third time. “I see that my reputation precedes me.”

“I like to keep an eye on newcomers.” Makoto offered him a warm smile. “It's good to have you here, Rei.”

“Th-thank you,” Rei stammered. He blushed as he looked away. “If I may ask, what exactly is your role in the palace?”

“My role?” Makoto repeated. He frowned thoughtfully. “I suppose you could call me a mother hen. Most do.”

“A—what?”

“I look after the people in the palace,” he explained. “From the kitchen workers to the dancers to the guard to the prince himself.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Someone has to make sure Rin eats and sleeps.” He turned to look down the hall. “Speaking of which, I need to get him tucked in.” Glancing back at Rei, he smiled. “Where were you off to?”

A crimson blush flooded Rei's face. “Captain Mikoshiba asked me to guard Nagisa's quarters until the guests have dispersed.”

“He means well,” Makoto laughed. “He does love to tease, though.”

“Which?”

“Both.”

This time, even Rei laughed. Relief coiled around Makoto's heart; he'd seen enough newcomers scared away from the palace. Rin could be...intense. He demanded perfection of himself and scorned laziness in others. Even so, humiliating Rei in front of a room full of people had been uncalled for.

“I can take you to Nagisa's quarters,” Makoto offered.

“That would be much appreciated. I memorized the palace's floor plan, but I didn't make note of the dancers' quarters.”

They set off down the hallway in amicable silence. Makoto thought of the absolutely enchanted expression that had taken Rei's face whenever Nagisa danced. Rei wouldn't be the first Nagisa charmed; he'd learned to dance the moment he learned to walk, and his smile could lighten the heaviest mood. Makoto turned to him whenever he needed Rin to wind down; they'd been friends since childhood.

Makoto looked sidelong at Rei. He carried himself with perfect posture, but it seemed almost mechanical—if anyone could get him to loosen up, it would be Nagisa.

When Rei caught him staring, he quickly thought of a cover. “I could use a pair of glasses, myself,” he said. “Bit nearsighted.”

“They're hard to come by,” Rei said. “I understand the underlying principles that go into their manufacture, but the dearth of metals since the Great War has made it impossible to fashion frames, and our tools lack the precision we'd need to refine the curvature of the lenses.”

Makoto sighed as he turned a corner. “I wonder what it would have been like before the Great War. A friend's grandmother—may she rest in peace—once told me that the whole world was green.”

Thinking of Haru's grandmother, who had once been queen, drew his childhood friend to mind. Born to be king despite having no interest in leadership, Haru had renounced the throne to let Rin take his place. Makoto shook his head; life had been so much less complicated before then. Before Haru had left to find other oases—survivors from the Great War.

“Not the whole world,” Rei corrected. “Some regions were barren even before desertification took the land.”

“That was two or three hundred years ago,” Makoto said, surprised. “How can you tell?”

Rei launched into a detailed explanation that brought in elements of physics, chemistry, biology, and just about every other type of science Makoto had ever heard of. As he got increasingly intent on his point, he began wildly gesticulating.

Smiling to himself, Makoto thought he might understand what Nagisa saw in him.


	3. Chapter 3

Nagisa collapsed onto his bed. He hadn't danced so long in ages, and he'd really put his back into it—that cute guard with the glasses had blushed every time he so much as twitched his hips. He'd made a big show of almost-but-not-quite lapdancing for Rei and generally teasing him until he was utterly incoherent. Most of the guards were used to his tricks by now, so they weren't half as fun to play with.

“I sure danced my butt off.” He grimaced as he rubbed it. Rin seldom had him dance for more than an hour or two, so dancing for nearly five hours nonstop _hurt_. “I'm not getting out of bed for a week.”

“You'll need someone to warm it, then, won't you?”

Nagisa sat up abruptly. He didn't know the name of the merchant in the doorway, but he recognized his face. He always sat as close to Nagisa as possible when he danced for Rin and his guests—and he always made the same slimeball faces.

“No thanks.” Nagisa smiled. “I'm going to take up the whole bed myself.”

“It certainly looks like there's room for one more.”

Nagisa closed his eyes and went over his choices.

Option 1: Pretend to be oblivious to the creep's intent.

Option 2: Make it clear that, no, _seriously_ , he wasn't interested.

Option 3: Lure him over, then knee him in the balls.

Option 1 would open the door to more persistence from the creep, and he might get violent if Nagisa went with Option 2. But Option 3 would get the creep into his bed and require actual physical contact with him, and, well...gross.

Nagisa opened his eyes and sighed heavily. “Nope, too tired.”

“You wouldn't even have to do anything,” the creep began, but then a fist closed around his arm.

“I do believe he answered you clearly.” Behind his glasses, Rei's eyes had gone cold and sharp as ice. “If you need an escort to find your way out of the palace, I would be honored to assist.”

The merchant attempted to yank him arm out of Rei's grasp, but he didn't budge. “I know my way out,” he snapped.

“Very well.” Rei released his arm and stepped between the creep and Nagisa.

The moment the creep vanished down the hallway, Nagisa sighed with relief. “Thanks,” he said. “I was afraid I'd have to knee him in the balls.”

The cool, tough expression on Rei's face went up in blushing flames. “I take it that this happens often?”

Nagisa shrugged, then put on a coy smile. “Were you hoping to get my autograph, handsome?”

“N-no!” Rei pushed his glasses up with jittery hands. “Captain Mikoshiba requested that I guard your quarters. If you would like, I can stand outside the closed door to offer you additional privacy.”

“So you're not here to hop into bed?”

“No, thank you.” His face went smooth, and the embarrassment faded. “I sleep during scheduled hours to maintain a proper routine and remain vigilant during my duties.”

“Naps are awesome,” Nagisa said. He exaggerated the yawn that followed, flopping back against the bed to stretch. “I'm going to be so sore in the morning, though. Ugh.” He pinched a sore muscle distastefully. “Rin never has me dance that long.”

“You didn't seem to tire.”

“Yeah, because I was _dancing_.” Nagisa rolled his eyes. “And you don't have to be that formal. That's the nice thing about being a dancer—I don't have to play the fancy pants game.”

“I admire your athletic skills,” Rei said stiffly. “I do not wish to insult you, Mr. Hazuki.”

“ _Mr. Hazuki?_ ” Nagisa groaned. “Who told you my last name?”

“Mr. Tachibana,” Rei said. “He pointed me toward your quarters.”

“Figures that Makoto would set me up.” He sighed. “Look, call me Nagisa.”

“We aren't that close.”

Nagisa rolled over and pouted at the wall. “I'm still gonna call you Rei.”

“We aren't that close,” Rei repeated.

On any other day, Nagisa would have had a cheerful retort at the ready, but his eyelids felt like lead. His final thought before drifting off was, 'We could be.'


	4. Chapter 4

Sand stretched in all directions, but the outline of a familiar palace wavered in the distance. Haruka had spent years searching the world for wider waters than the small oasis he'd been born to. Ever since he'd ceded the throne to Rin, he'd been hunting for any sign that they weren't the last survivors. But he had encountered nothing more than mirages across the desert sands. The only sanctuary he'd found had been the home he left. The last bastion of human civilization. The last oasis.

His throat felt dry as he returned to his natal home. Not wanting to bother with people who might call out to him and treat him like a prince—even after he'd given up the throne—he covered his face and stole through the back entrance of the palace, the one used by servants. He made his way to Rin's quarters and knocked once.

“What is it?” Rin snapped. “I'm working.”

Haruka pushed open the door, and Rin's eyes went wide as they met his. Breathing in deeply, he announced, “We are alone.”

“Uh, yeah,” Rin waved a hand at the empty room. “What are you doing here, Haru? I thought you were gonna go find some other pond to rule.”

“We are alone,” he repeated. He licked his dry lips—it had been months since he'd spoken, perhaps years, and his voice felt rusty. “In the world.”

Rin froze. “Fuck.” He covered his face. “We're—we're _what_? What the hell, Haru? Then where have you been this whole time?”

Haru gestured vaguely. His head throbbed, and he swayed before catching himself on the wall.

“Sit your ass down right this minute,” Rin said sharply, rising to his feet. “Makoto? We need water in here.” When Haru staggered, Rin immediately appeared at his side to support him. His voice echoed in Haru's ears as he shouted. “Makoto? Where the hell is he?”

“Rin, what—” The same old voice—Haruka turned to see his face. Concern and surprise didn't keep him from looking like the same friend he'd known years before. “ _Haru?_ ”

“Water!” Rin snapped. He lowered Haruka onto a cushioned chair. “My kingdom for a glass of water and all that shit. And I don't mean tomorrow!”

Makoto vanished, and Haruka sank into his seat, resting his head against the back of the chair.

“I'll get Nagisa to wash your feet,” Rin said. Hospitality—a creature comfort Haruka hadn't had in ages. Rin pulled Haruka's chin so that he faced him. “Stay with me, Haru. What the hell were you talking about?”

Haruka opened his mouth to describe the vast, endless sands—the way that the only water he'd found had been so salty that hardly anything remained after distilling it. Instead, his eyes fixed on Rin's face and relief spread throughout his body, relaxing his taut muscles.

“Crap, he's gonna pass out,” Rin muttered. He looked up, and Haruka heard footsteps running into the room. “Nagisa, wash his feet. Makoto, give him some water, for God's sake.”

The lukewarm water on his cracked feet felt like a balm. He reached out unsteady hands to take the cup from Makoto, who helped him drink—the water filled him, healing him from the inside out. After downing the last drop, his headache began at last to recede.

“Thank you,” he said. He squeezed Makoto's hand awkwardly. He'd lost track of the days, but he hadn't had contact with another human since he'd left.

“I think he's delirious,” Makoto said, shooting a look at Rin. Even so, his hand clenched around Haruka's. “What happened?”

“We're alone,” Haruka repeated.

“Alone?” Makoto and Nagisa exchanged a look.

“Haru, you've been gone for five years,” Rin said. “What the hell were you doing if you didn't find anyone?”

“I looked everywhere,” he replied, closing his eyes. He saw skeletons—of marine animals as well as humans—half-buried in the unending sands. “We're all that's left.”

Makoto's other hand settled on his shoulder, and comfort eased throughout Haruka's body.

“That's fucking awful,” Rin said. His voice sounded raw. “I thought—God.”

“How did you get back, Haru?” Nagisa asked.

“The stars.” He grimaced, pressing a hand to his forehead. The water had taken the edge off of his headache, but weariness enveloped him as Nagisa toweled off his feet.

“I'm going to get him to bed,” Makoto said.

Rin grunted, and Haruka felt hands lifting him up. He sagged against them, too weak to hold himself up. So few animals left in the wasteland—so little water. His body begged him to sleep. He forced his eyes open just long enough to register Rin's worried expression—and then exhaustion dragged him under.


	5. Chapter 5

Rin steepled his hands beneath his chin.

“You didn't tell me you were the last of your kind,” he said.

The spirit wavered before him, his light blue eyes reflections of the pool at the heart of Rin's kingdom. “I did not know I was the last, my liege.”

Sighing heavily, Rin stood. “I'm sorry.” He looked away. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“I serve the king who rules my oasis,” the spirit said. “I will remain at your side until my waters turn to ash.”

“Nitori, you have to think of yourself sometimes.” Rin's hands clenched into fists. Ever since he'd taken the throne, Nitori had been the only person he'd been able to call a confidant—he couldn't task the rest of his people with the burdens of a ruler. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“I knew this day would come. I've spent the last several generations attaching myself to the village rather than the pool,” Nitori replied. When Rin looked up at him, he recognized the concrete gray of the spirit's hair—the color of the buildings that had withstood the bombs. “Thanks to you, I should be able to survive.”

Rin pinched the bridge of his nose. “And what about my subjects?” He ground his teeth. “We're low on water, low on food, low on arable land, low on medicine...”

“Your rationing system is working.”

“And they hate me for it.” Rin sank back into his throne. Orders got shit done, but his people didn't like him. Haru had always had a better knack for gaining the admiration of others. Quiet and graceful in combat, unobtrusive and seldom demanding, he taught and ruled with patience.

But patience wouldn't feed the hungry—patience wouldn't replenish their oasis.

“Is this about your friend?” Nitori asked bluntly. “Haruka, the boy born heir to the throne?”

“Of course you'd know that,” Rin muttered. He dragged a hand through his hair. “Yeah, this is about Haru. He was born to be king. I'm only here because he dumped the job on me.”

“The king raised both of you as equals,” Nitori said. “You, your sister, and Haruka all held an equal share of the throne. When Haruka renounced it, he lost all ruling legitimacy.”

“They'd take him back in a heartbeat,” Rin snapped. “You know that.”

“You're a good leader,” he insisted. “I've met a dozen or more kings—none squandered as little as you have. You alone have set the stage for recovery.”

Rin said nothing. He thought of the dark day he'd lost his parents—the day the king had taken him in. He'd admired Haru then. They'd been close until jealousy had eaten away at Rin's heart.

“You could exile him,” Nitori suggested. “You'd be well within your rights.”

“No!” Rin stood up, then winced—the others would only be able to hear his response, not Nitori himself. He had enough problems without the others questioning his sanity. “No. He stays.”

“Very well.” Nitori glanced at the door to the throne room. “Many kings in the past would duel to determine legitimacy.”

Rin looked down at his hands. He wanted to. The idea of fighting Haru—of proving himself worthy of the throne—sent jitters like fire beneath his skin. He clenched his hands into fists. “He's weak. He needs time to recover.”

Nitori's expression softened, and Rin felt heat rise in his cheeks.

“You are a good king,” Nitori told him. “Your rule will be well-regarded.”

“Unless I fuck things up so bad that nobody's left.” Rin groaned and buried his face in his hands as anxiety burrowed down between his shoulders, heavier than lead. “The last in the _world_ , Nitori. The whole fucking country is gone.”

“And yet you remain.”

“And here we are.” Rin looked up at Nitori. He'd been a young man of eighteen or so the entire time Rin had ruled—the last five years. When Rin had taken the throne, he'd seemed like a mentor, an advisor. As the years had passed, Rin had begun to see him as a friend—as someone to place under his fierce protection. The water rationing had been as much for Nitori as his subjects.

Nitori smiled at him, and a small part of his burden felt shared.


	6. Chapter 6

Kou hurried down the hall. Rin had shut himself up in the throne room and refused to come out once Haruka had come home, but _someone_ had to take care of the humdrum tasks that cropped up every day. 'He stole my camel!' 'She ate my beans!' 'My family needs more water!' They needed to work together to have any hope of surviving, but people would always be people, and _someone_ had to be around to grant them audiences.

Even if they were petty.

Someone turned the corner ahead of her, and Kou drew up short. She recognized the man's pecs and deltoids before his fiery hair and golden eyes.

“Captain!” she said cheerfully.

He dropped to kneel before her. “Your Highness,” he said. He looked up at her, and pink tinted his bronzed face. “It—It's been quite some time.”

“We see each other every day,” Kou pointed out. The palace was large, but not _that_ large. Even so, they rarely interacted; at most, she usually saw him from a distance while he went about drilling the palace guards. She smiled at him. “It's always a pleasure to see you, though, of course.”

“Always,” Mikoshiba agreed. “Shall I escort you somewhere, Your Highness?”

“Kou,” she insisted. “And sure. Maybe they'll listen better with a six foot Adonis at my side.”

“Ado-what?”

Kou hid her mouth with one hand to disguise her chuckle. “A young man so handsome that the gods and goddesses fought over him. You distract them with your pretty face, and I'll get the ordinances sorted out.”

“So—so you're calling me handsome?” the captain asked, standing. His eyes practically glittered, and he bounced on the balls of his feet. “You're pretty cute, yourself.”

“Thanks.” She beamed at him. “And, yes. Just look at those biceps! I bet you could bench press me.”

“I, uh. Uh.” The captain's mouth opened and shut, apparently looking for a response that didn't exist. He'd gone red to the roots of his hair. “If—if you'd like?"

“Maybe later.” She winked, then turned down the corridor. “Now come on. Are you planning to help me or not?”  


	7. Chapter 7

The news spread quickly. Their world had turned out to be narrower than they'd all thought—lonelier than they'd hoped. To rule the kingdom was to rule what little remained of the world. As if the world hadn't ended without them already. As if it mattered whether one small community survived. Rei knew there were too few of them to sustain a properly diverse gene pool; this scarcity rendered humanity all but extinct.

His heart sat heavy in his chest. When Captain Mikoshiba assigned him to guard duty outside Nagisa's quarters once again, he almost refused. Any time Nagisa danced, Rei never failed to find himself captured by the beauty and athleticism of the young man. So enchanted, in fact, that he lost all hope of vigilance before the prince. An assassination would decide the ruler of all the world; the stakes had risen to an alarming extent. He couldn't afford distractions.

And yet.

“You can come in and sit down, you know,” Nagisa called.

Rei glanced around at him and—upon finding him in the process of undressing—hastily averted his eyes. “That would be improper, Mr. Hazuki.”

“Mr. Hazuki,” Nagisa repeated, clearly pouting. “Nobody's ever called me that before.”

“You are of age, aren't you?”

“Well, yeah.” A flumping sound from the chambers drew Rei's attention, and he saw Nagisa sprawled across his bed, skin bare. The sheen of sweat from his last dance shone in the low light of his lamps. “Makoto told me that you and I are the same age.”

“Twenty-one, then,” Rei said. He swallowed hard and looked away as Nagisa sighed and rolled over. Distractions. He couldn't afford this kind of—whatever this was.

“Do people call you, _'Mr. Ryuugazaki'_?”

“Was that supposed to be an impersonation of me?”

“Pretty good, huh?” Nagisa laughed. “I bet they don't, right?”

“They did,” Rei said. He thought of the many hours he'd spent in school learning the formal means of address. “Did your teachers never call you by your last name?”

“Teachers?” Nagisa repeated. His voice sounded almost mystified. “No. They always called me Penguin.”

“Penguin?”

“Because I was born with two left feet.”

Rei frowned. “Anatomically speaking, that's not possible. Bilateral symmetry dictates that—”

“I mean that I was lousy at dancing, goofball.” He laughed again, and Rei's cheeks grew hot. “Waddled like a mythological penguin.”

“They weren't mythological,” Rei said. “They existed. They might still exist in the south pole if it hasn't completely melted.”

“Where do you pick these things up?” Nagisa patted the bed beside him noisily, and Rei looked around to see him beckoning, his other hand propping up his head as he sprawled on his belly. “Get over here. I wanna hear about these penguins. Aren't they like narwhals? Unicorns of the sea? Except maybe unicorns of the ice or something.”

“Narwhals, too, were once real,” Rei insisted, but he glanced down the hall—empty. “Excavators have found their remains in the desert not thirty miles from where you stand.”

“Not standing,” Nagisa said. “You shouldn't be, either. Just looking at you is making me tired.”

“If you are tired, Mr. Hazuki, perhaps you ought to get some sleep.”

Nagisa groaned. “Geez. Just get over here, would you?”

Rei pretended his breath hadn't just caught. “Why?”

“Because I like looking at your pretty face while we're talking,” Nagisa said. “And because I think you're beautiful when you blush.”

Heat flared in Rei's cheeks against his will. He pushed up his glasses and refused to look at Nagisa as he spoke. “You're beautiful when you dance. Not like a penguin at all.”

Nagisa clapped his hands with delight, and Rei glanced over his shoulder to see him beaming. “Say that again, and I'll give you a _private_ dance.”

Rei choked on air as Nagisa winked, and he thumped himself firmly on the chest to make sure his heart resumed beating. “No, thank you.”

“Aww.” Nagisa sighed dramatically, and Rei heard him stand and approach. He didn't reach out to touch Rei, but Rei could feel the warmth of his presence directly behind him.

He smelled like sweat and sandalwood.

“Hey, I'm not gonna bite,” Nagisa said gently.

At the end of the hall, Rei spotted salvation or damnation—Captain Mikoshiba. He saluted sharply, and the captain waved back at him. “Am I relieved of my duty, Captain?” Rei asked, ignoring the tremor in his voice.

“Yeah, sure,” the captain replied. “All the creeps have left.”

“Thank you, sir,” Rei said. “I bid you a pleasant evening, Mr. Hazuki.”

Without turning to look at Nagisa, he strode down the corridor. It wasn't until three turns later that he realized he'd set out in the wrong direction.

He pushed up his glasses and leaned against a stone wall as he attempted to get his thoughts in order. Leaving in such an undignified fashion could hardly be called _beautiful—_ he could have been suave and spoken calmly with Nagisa despite his nudity, he could have made Nagisa smile like that again—

Why should that be his goal? His brow furrowed. He'd become a guard to protect the prince from assassination, not to sneak into the private quarters of a dancer and join him in bed. What was beautiful about the latter? The art of fighting showed a mastery of true athleticism. He was not so base as to...to...

An image of Nagisa dancing rose unbidden in his mind's eye. His heart glowed as he thought of the sheer joy as the music took him, filled him, moved with him. If that could be called anything other than beautiful, he didn't have the vocabulary he had long prided himself on.

He pushed one hand against his chest, where his heart beat out a steady rhythm—sure and purposeful as Nagisa's dance.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Turning back to the proper path to his quarters, understanding that was not quite understanding blossomed within him.


	8. Chapter 8

Makoto's heart hurt to think of Haru wandering alone in the desert for five years. He'd given up the throne at age seventeen—the year before he would have taken over as king. In the five years that separated them, he had seen no one, found nothing but bones. All while Makoto had been fretting over Rin's health and Nagisa's isolation. All while Makoto had been safe and sound in the palace.

He held out a bowl of beans in broth to Haru, who lay propped up in bed. Protein and vitamins and rest. That's what he needed. Even so, Makoto's chest tightened.

“I'm sorry I didn't go with you,” Makoto said quietly.

Haru took the bowl. “I would have told you to go home.”

“I should have asked you to stay.”

“You did.” Haru drank a spoonful of the soup, avoiding the beans until Makoto shot him a pointed look.

“Yeah, I guess I did.” Makoto looked down at his hands. He remembered that day all too well. Rin and Haru had gotten into a fight, and Haru had renounced the throne to save their friendship.

It hadn't been enough.

“How's Rin?”

“I'm doing just fine,” Rin said from the doorway. “Eat your fucking soup and get better already.”

Haru said nothing, but he lifted the spoon to his mouth again as Rin sat at the foot of his bed.

“He behaving himself?” Rin asked, looking sidelong at Makoto. When Makoto nodded, some small degree of relief crossed his face. “Good. I've got twenty guards who can force-feed him if he gives you any trouble.”

“King Rin,” Haru said, and pain blossomed across Rin's face before he could mask it. “I can stay in the commoner housing.”

“You're staying _here_ ,” Rin said firmly. He gritted his teeth. “I'm still a prince, okay? Enough—enough with this 'king' crap.”

Haru glanced at Makoto, who raised his hands pacifyingly. “Now, now. Let's not argue.”

Turning back to Rin, Haru's face remained blank. “Why aren't you king?”

Rin's mouth hardened into a thin line. “They wanted you to be king.”

“I renounced the throne.”

“They didn't renounce _you_.”

“I don't want to be king,” Haru said. His sun-weathered face remained impassive, but his hands clenched into fists, and determination broke into his voice. “You worked for it. You be the king.”

“And yet it comes so naturally to you,” Rin snapped. “A prodigy in your studies, in your duels, in everything!”

“I'm twenty-two,” Haru said. “I'm just a regular person now.”

“Regular.” Rin spat. “If you're regular, I'm a dolphin.”

“I've been talking to the guards.” Haru set the bowl aside. “You're a good king.”

“Prince.” Rin tugged at the back of his crown—a nervous habit. “They hate the rations, they hate the laws, and they hate me.”

“The rations?” Makoto repeated. “I can give some of mine up to—”

“You get exactly what they get,” Rin said. “Hell, _I_ get exactly what they get. It's just that they're the ones growing it, so they don't like sharing.”

Surveying Haru's unmoved face, Makoto began to wonder whether he'd forgotten how to make expressions without anyone to look back at him. He'd always been able to read Haru better than the others, though, and he understood the guilt clouding his eyes.

“Whose rations am I eating?”

“Yours.” Rin stood sharply. “Kou'll have my head if I don't grant some audiences today. See you.”

As Rin turned to go, hurt tugged at Haru's face, nearly imperceptible. When the door shut behind Rin, he sighed.

“I'll get you another bowl,” Makoto offered, rising.

Haru's hand snapped out to grab his wrist. “I'm fine,” he said, looking to one side.

Makoto sat again, this time on the side of Haru's bed. “Later, then. You don't look like you've eaten in weeks.”

“I caught some birds,” Haru said evasively. “There were plenty of vultures. That's how I found water.”

Makoto covered his face with his free hand, imagining Haru wasting away and getting picked at by the birds. He shuddered, and Haru's grip on his wrist tightened. How long had it been since Haru had gotten contact with another person? Had he gone five years without touch before Nagisa washed his feet?

Looking up at him, he realized that Haru's eyes were lined with exhaustion. He managed a smile. “Hey, you wanna have a sleepover?” he asked. “For old time's sake?”

Haru's eyes went wide before he looked to the side once again. “Sure.”


	9. Chapter 9

Several weeks had passed since Rei had first refused to join Nagisa for snuggling in bed. It figured—the first time he'd actually invited somebody, they weren't interested. Haru was the talk of the palace, even though Nagisa hadn't actually seen him up and about. Even though a scullery maid had said he'd have more luck trying Haru's room for the both of them, he'd decided to try talking to Makoto alone first.

Nagisa opened the door to Makoto's quarters. “I'm coming in!”

“Ah, Nagisa,” Makoto said, blinking up at him from his bed. He covered his mouth as he yawned. “Excuse me. I didn't expect you to visit.”

“It's been a while,” Nagisa agreed. When he'd been a child, he'd spent most of his nights with Makoto and his siblings—now grown and working in the palace with rooms of their own. “How's Haru doing?”

“Improving,” Makoto said, but worry pinched at the corners of his eyes.

Nagisa decided to lighten the mood. “You remember Rei?”

“New guard, right? Wears glasses?”

“That's the one.”

Makoto smiled. “Got your eye on him?”

“I only ever see him when he's on duty,” Nagisa whined, flopping onto Makoto's bed beside him. “Is he always so...so stuffy?”

“I'm not sure,” Makoto said, frowning with thought. “I never see him talking to the other guards.”

“I want to talk to him,” Nagisa said. “Please, Makoto? Pretty please?”

“So you want to have some sort of secret rendezvous with this guy?” Makoto asked. “Should I give him the Don't Mess With My Friends talk?”

“A secret rendezvous!” Nagisa beamed. “Ooh, that'll be like spies. Star-crossed lovers! How fun.” He shook his head. “But don't scare him off, Makoto! I just want to talk.”

“Okay, okay,” Makoto said, patting Nagisa on the shoulder. “How about you two meet here tonight?”

“Because you'll be in Haru's room?” Makoto flushed pink as Nagisa winked. “You know, I have some massage oil—”

“Nagisa!”

“He's probably sore from all that walking, right?” Nagisa stuck out his tongue as Makoto sputtered. “You go look after Haru, and I'll wait here for Rei.”

“Wait here?” Makoto repeated. “He doesn't get off duty for hours.”

“I'll just sleep until then.” Nagisa yawned and stretched out on the bed. “Your sleepiness is catching.”

“Sorry to spread it,” Makoto said. He patted Nagisa's shoulder. “Want me to tuck you in?”

“Yes, Mama.”

Makoto chuckled and pulled a sheet over Nagisa. “I'll go let Rei know to come here after he finishes work.”

“Mmhmm.” Nagisa's eyes slid closed. “Thanks, Mom.”

Minutes or hours later, he heard a knock that jolted him from his sleep.

“Yes?” he called.

The door slid open, revealing Rei holding a little lantern. It cast long, flickering shadows; while Nagisa had been out, the room had gotten dark.

“You asked to see me?”

Nagisa patted the bed enthusiastically. “Yeah! I thought we could talk while you're off-duty. And maybe we could be friends.”

“Very well.” Rei set the lantern on the bedside table and slowly, haltingly, lowered himself onto the bed. He seemed to be holding his breath.

“I told you that I'm not gonna bite, silly.” Nagisa wriggled his way over to Rei without pulling off the covers—nights were cold in the desert. He curled up against Rei's back and twisted around until he could look up at Rei's face. The low light made it hard to see, but it looked like he'd started blushing again.

“I'm not so sure about that,” Rei said. “I think I saw you attempt to chomp on a zealous patron's hand before.”

“Your hands don't wander, so I'm not gonna bite them.” He frowned with concentration for a moment. “Hmm. Actually, if your hands were doing the wandering, I think I'd kinda like that.”

“Why?” Rei asked. “Why me, specifically?”

“I could say it's because I think you're gorgeous.” Nagisa snaked one hand out from beneath the sheets to reach up and touch Rei's cheek. “But you didn't like that answer last time.”

Rei looked away. “I'm sorry for storming off like that,” he said. “It was highly unbecoming of me.”

“I can come on a little strong when I like somebody,” Nagisa said. He trailed his fingers along the cold metal of Rei's glasses and adjusted his position so that his head rested on Rei's lap. “Doesn't happen very often, though. So that makes you special!” He beamed.

“I don't understand,” Rei said. “Why does it have to be me?”

The grin faded on Nagisa's face, and he lowered his hand. “You know, I never went to school,” he said. “I was gonna be a dancer either way. But you just assumed I'd gone to a school like you had. No one ever told me I _could_.”

Rei went very still. “I'm sorry for making assumptions.”

“It was nice,” Nagisa continued. “Nobody's ever tried to talk to me about science and numbers and stuff.” He didn't mention the sheer awe on Rei's face whenever Nagisa danced for him, the way he made him feel like he could dance forever.

“I could teach you,” Rei said quickly. When Nagisa looked up at him, he blushed. “My parents are both scholars. I have a lot of resources.”

“I'm not a good student,” Nagisa said. “Ask Ms. Hemson.” He shook his head. “I'd rather be friends with you, Rei.”

For a long, still moment, Rei said nothing. “Don't friends help each other, Nagisa?”

Nagisa's heart stuttered. He didn't dare comment on the name—it'd kill him to hear _Mr. Hazuki_ after listening to his first name in Rei's mouth. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, they do.” He cinched his arms around Rei's waist and buried his face in his stomach to hide his blush.

“I've never had a friend before, so you'll have to take responsibility,” Rei said. “I understand the theories perfectly, though.”

Nagisa smiled against Rei's side, heart glowing in his chest.

“I will.”


	10. Chapter 10

“How about it, Haru?” Rin asked. “A duel for old time's sake?”

Looking at the harsh glint in Rin's eyes, Haruka knew the duel would be far from child's play. He pushed himself up in bed. He'd grown stronger, but he could see that he hadn't recovered enough to best Rin in a duel yet. Maybe that was for the best.

“Sure.” Haruka swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Rin couldn't accept that he deserved the throne, even though he'd worked for it and ruled better than most—more likely all—other contenders. Defeating Haruka in a duel might overcome that self-doubt.

“You better not go easy on me,” Rin said. His prideful expression flickered as Haruka got shakily to his feet. “Hey. I thought they said you were doing better?”

“I'm fine,” Haruka said. He couldn't stand making others worry; he took greater care to conceal his exhaustion. He couldn't be free of the throne until Rin accepted his place as king. “Lead the way.”

Rin hesitated, then led Haruka down the corridors to the practice arena. They'd often sparred there as children. Haruka found the sport a bit old-fashioned, but the rush of finding openings in the other party's defenses, the sheer thrill of anticipating blows and dodging them, had always settled his mind. A good sparring partner created a back and forth that accepted the strengths and bolstered the weaknesses of both. It was a dialogue, not a dominance fight.

Or so it had been for Haruka, who had never cared about victory. But Rin oscillated between two moods and styles when he sparred with Haruka: the energetic, fearless friend Haruka had cherished and the desperate, frustrated prince Haruka had tried to understand. If he wanted the throne and Haruka didn't, he should have the throne; Haruka had renounced it in the hopes of bringing back his friend.

The prince stood across from him. Perhaps Haruka could slay the self-doubt that had eaten up his friend. Maybe the shouting matches would again become conversations.

In the palace, the stagnant air sometimes grew stifling. It pressed down against Haruka's skin, confining him to the ring. Something like a mirage flickered in the corner of his eye, and he could swear he smelled water on the air—or perhaps wet sediment.

At least no one waited in the wings to observe them. Haruka thought of the last time he'd fought—and bested—Rin. He'd sworn never to speak with Haruka again; commoners had no place addressing royalty. It had stung so badly he wanted nothing to do with ruling the kingdom he'd inherited. But if someone had seen—well. Rin had a prideful nature.

“You deserve the throne,” Haruka said. He stopped short of calling him King Rin; he might take it mockingly.

“We're just sparring,” Rin said, but his eyes flashed. He set his crown aside and stepped into the ring.

Haruka readied a defensive stance, bracing himself for a sudden onslaught.

Sure enough, Rin's first blow came a bit wider than it should have. Haruka caught his arm in mid-air, hesitating just long enough that Rin knocked him off his feet before he could get him into a proper hold. He held tight to Rin's arm, and they both hit the sandy ring, rolling and ducking to escape one another's arms.

An opening—Haruka plunged his hand forward, reaching into the gap left by Rin's poorly positioned ankle. When Rin attempted to counter, it set him off balance enough that a feint sent him stumbling. Haruka reached unthinkingly to catch him and prevent him from falling, but Rin—who must have mistaken it for a blow—twisted Haruka's wrist and sent him tumbling.

Grit from the sandy floor bit at Haruka's eyes. The rhythm of the fight changed. He narrowly dodged a punch to the face by catching Rin's fist with his injured hand. But his knees buckled, and, in moments, Rin had him pinned against the floor.

They lay there, panting, and Haru stared up into Rin's clouded eyes.

“You won,” he said. “That's great.”

Fury flooded Rin's face as he shoved himself to his feet. “Fuck you.”

“It was a good fight, King Rin.”

“Shut up!” Rin's fists shook. “You're still weak. It wasn't fair. I shouldn't have challenged you.”

Haruka attempted to push himself to a sitting position, but his injured wrist gave out, and he crumpled before he could disguise his wince.

Guilt and grief that flashed across Rin's face. “God damn it.” He raked a hand through his hair as though reaching for the crown he'd removed. “Nitori.”

The scent of wet earth pervaded the entire room, making Haruka's head spin. A gray-haired young man wavered in and out of sight, flowing like a stream from the corner of the room to the ring.

He opened his mouth, but all Haruka heard was the sound of rain drumming against dry earth. An impossible sound—nothing a human mouth could produce.

Rin responded as if he'd spoken plainly. “Take the crown, Nitori. I'm taking him back to his room.”

From the boy's mouth, a howling wind shaped the words _My Liege_ against Haruka's ears, and the crown flickered in his watery hands, reappearing before Rin. _Yours._

Haruka dug a finger into his ear with one hand and scrubbed at his eyes with the other. Hallucinations had come to him in the desert, but he'd thought himself recovered. His head rang.

“Not right now, it's not,” Rin snapped. He ducked and helped Haruka to his feet. “Take it.”

Rin's words made no sense, but Haruka chose not to comment. For the moment, Rin looked like his childhood friend again—the one who'd looked on with such panic when Haru had fallen ill and collapsed one night while practicing on his own in the training hall.

Even before his five years of solitude, Haruka hadn't been talkative like Nagisa and the others. He couldn't put words to the feeling of relief that flooded him as Rin helped him back to his room. The desire to reach out—to keep him as _Rin_ and not the frustrated prince who'd stolen him away—overwhelmed him, but he made no sign of it.

Rin might not yet accept himself as ruler, but at least the real Rin still waited underneath the prince's mask. And Haruka had always believed that the real Rin would make the best ruler of all.


	11. Chapter 11

“What were you two thinking?” Makoto asked, concern warring with bafflement on his face. “Haru's supposed to get used to activity again slowly—not go brawling in the middle of the night!”

Rin reached to tug at the back of his crown and, finding it absent, tugged on his hair instead.

“The throne has been won less nobly in the past,” Nitori said from behind Makoto—unheard by all save Rin. “My Liege did as I bade and nothing more. He deserves the crown he has borne these years.”

“I'm sorry,” Rin said, not looking at Makoto. “I don't know what I was thinking.”

Makoto's face softened. “You've got a competitive streak a mile wide, and things are still unfinished between the two of you. But you need to take care of each other. No more sprained wrists!”

Rin nodded, swallowing the lump of shame in his throat. Guilt burned in his chest. His envy had injured an already weak Haru—it felt like an unbreachable chasm yawned between them. He'd burned the bridge that might have mended their relationship.

“I'm fine,” Haru said, but his voice remained flat and unaffected.

How much of Haru had been worn smooth and featureless in the desert? And Rin had driven him to five years of exile over a petty fight and his own pride.

Haru fastened sharp eyes on Rin as if reading his heart. “I traveled for my own sake.”

“And you better not go traveling again,” Rin snapped. “Don't make me pull rank on you.”

As if he deserved the crown. He couldn't bear to lose Haru again while _knowing_ that nothing but death waited for him out in the endless sands—but he couldn't bear to sit in his shadow for the rest of his reign. If he deserved to reign at all. King of the world—and he'd broken an injured friend's wrist. Yeah, some fucking king he was.

“Rin, could you go get Haru some soup?” Makoto asked.

He began to nod before he realized how ridiculous it was to send a prince to get soup for someone. Glancing at Haru's injured wrist, however, he turned on one heel and walked out of the room.

“That was improper,” Nitori said, winding beside him like water through a channel—he always looked less human when he moved.

“Makoto wants some alone time with Haru,” Rin muttered. He kept his eyes sharp for eavesdroppers who might think him crazy. “Can you blame him? They were practically joined at the hip as kids, and now I've fucked everything up.”

“You've done no such thing, My Liege.”

“And enough of this _my liege_ crap.” Rin winced. “I don't deserve the crown.”

“You are a good king—”

“Fuck no, I'm not. I'm not a king at all.” Rin ducked into an empty room so he could look at Nitori properly. “And I'm going to give up the throne. Ruling's not for me.”

Nitori's face typically shone warm and constant as the sun—or smooth and placid as an undisturbed pool. At his words, however, agony spread across Nitori's face. “You can't!” he shouted. “If you renounce your throne, we won't be able to talk again!”

Rin froze. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I may only speak with the rightful ruler of my waters,” Nitori said. Tears pooled in his eyes. “You are my prince and my king. If you pass on your right to rule, we will never speak again.”

Rin swallowed hard and looked away. “What if I share the throne?”

Nitori said nothing, and responsibility settled like sand on his shoulders. His kingdom deserved better. He'd had enough.

But he couldn't lose Nitori.

“Don't expect me to stick around forever,” he muttered. It was pointless to try to reach out and ruffle Nitori's hair—he'd never even bothered to try making physical contact with the incorporeal spirit. But those relieved eyes shone up at him, and he couldn't help himself.

To his profound surprise, his hand met more than air. Nitori's gray hair looked like concrete but felt like cool water. He might have dipped his fingers into the oasis itself—it felt soothing and soft, just barely tangible. Nitori stared back up at him, and his hand grew heavy. He slid his fingers across Nitori's temple and ran a thumb over the stone-smooth skin of his cheek.

“My Liege?”

Rin yanked his hand back and used it to cover his burning face. “Haru needs some soup,” he said roughly, twisting away. “And I'll put up with being prince a little longer.”

“Thank you, My Liege!” Nitori beamed, and Rin's heart stammered in his chest. “I will do my best to ease your rule.”

“Yeah.” Rin ran his hand through his hair, reaching for his crown, and his fingertips burned when he realized it still waited in his throne room. He felt scattered, but he masked it with a confident swagger out the door. “Now I gotta figure out what soup will piss Haru off the most.”


	12. Chapter 12

Kou rested her chin on her palm as she surveyed the starry sky. The roof was one of the few places she hadn't been allowed to go as a child, so she took every chance she had to sneak up there once responsibilities allowed it. It also made for a great meeting spot—in the palace, the walls practically had ears.

“Your Highness?”

A smile tugged at her lip. “Didn't think you were the sort to keep a lady waiting, Captain.”

“My apologies,” he said. When she turned to look at him in the moonlight, he flushed. “My men were sloppy, so I had them run an extra lap to earn their dinner.”

Kou admired the sheen of sweat on his muscles and settled back to sit on the lip at the edge of the roof. She'd worn night clothes—less likely to get her caught in her escapades and certainly more comfortable than her regal attire.

When she patted the clay beside her, surprise flashed across his face before he joined her.

“You said that you wished to discuss the current state of the kingdom affairs?” he asked.

She appreciated the serious cast of his voice; he knew not to expect a moonlight tryst. “I thought your perspective might be valuable. What do you think the current beat is? Who's in favor? What can we expect?”

“There are those who find the prince's measures too austere, although I believe they are shortsighted,” he said. “They tend to favor Haruka as a replacement.”

She nodded. “I thought so. He's the one with the birthright, after all.”

“You have as much right to the throne as he does.”

“Not by blood,” she said. “After our parents died, our relatives left us at the palace to be the little prince's playmates. Right age, you know?” She sighed heavily. “I can see why they'd want the born leader.”

“The king, may he rest in peace, declared all three of you as heirs,” he said. “Blood is irrelevant. I was born of merchant stock, and I'm captain of the guard.”

Kou reached over to squeeze his bicep with a grin. “And you're a fine captain,” she said. “I just want to keep the kingdom stable. Ever since Haruka got back, people have been muttering.”

“People always mutter,” he scoffed. “The prince does well enough as a ruler. Nobody is going hungry or thirsty.”

“Well enough?” she repeated, and he looked away. “Oho, so is there a better ruler I ought to hear about? Gotta keep an eye out for potential usurpers.”

“I think that you would make a fine leader, Your Highness.”

“Me?”

He turned to meet her gaze, and she could read only sincerity in his expression. “Yes,” he said, voice serious. “The prince occasionally shirks his duties, and you take them up without complaint. In the last six months, you've taken three times more audiences than he has, and your subjects contest your decisions only a fifth as much as his despite the volume of your caseload. The prince is fair, but his demeanor makes people feel cheated; you make everyone feel heard, even though your rulings seldom differ from those of your brother.”

“You've really put some thought into this, huh?” Kou chewed on her lower lip as she considered the idea. “Rin _has_ been wearing down lately, so his temper's kind of short. But...” She looked off into the distance and remembered the bright grin Rin had worn on the day they'd been declared heirs. The fierce pride in his expression as he clapped Haruka on the shoulder and said they'd take turns ruling.

“You don't want to take the throne?” he guessed.

She shook her head. “Rin's right. Ruling is a pain. And there's always the chance of an assassination.”

Mikoshiba paled. “My men and I would defend you to the death.”

She looked sidelong at him. “I'd rather not have anybody die for me.”

“Yet another reason you'd make a good queen.”

She smirked at him and rested her hand on top of his. “Oh, and who would possibly be my king?”

He blushed to the tips of his ears, and his hand shook beneath hers as he looked away. “I don't know,” he said. “That would be your choice, Your Highness.”

“Call me Kou,” she insisted. She squeezed his hand before releasing him. “We should talk more often.”

“I would love to.”


	13. Chapter 13

Rei found attending to the prince's hearings much simpler than guarding him in the face of Nagisa's distractions. He'd lived in the palace for several months already, but he'd only recently been given higher classes of duties.

Despite his advancement in the rankings, he found himself missing the days when the Captain had sent him to spend long hours at Nagisa's door.

“Glasses, are you even paying attention?”

Rei jumped to attention, blushing crimson with shame. “F-forgive me, your majesty.”

The prince rubbed the bridge of his nose as if pushing back a migraine. “You've gotta be fucking with me.” He groaned. “That last farmer tried to punch me, and my so-called guard didn't even raise a hand to stop him.”

Rei furrowed his brow. “He never stepped within two meters of you, your majesty.”

“Did you bust out a ruler or something?” The prince sneered. “He ran at me like he was going for my throat!”

“And he didn't set foot within range,” Rei said, pushing up his glasses. “It may have been a diversion or distraction to pull me from your side while an accomplice—”

“Look, quit it with the excuses!”

“Rin.”

They both turned to find Makoto standing in the doorway. The prince's expression morphed immediately to one of concern. “Is Haru all right?”

“He'll be right as rain in a couple of days,” Makoto said reassuringly. A wistful look tugged at his face. “We really could do with some actual rain, too.”

“Then why are you darkening my doorstep?”

“You need to rest.”

The prince huffed and crossed his arms. “I'm fine. Bring in the next audience.”

“You're imagining threats in farmers and snapping at guards,” Makoto insisted. “Kou is waiting for you in your quarters to debrief on this week's decisions.”

He sighed heavily, but he rose. “Sorry, glasses. Looks like we'll have to debate tactics tomorrow.” Without looking back, he left the room with the weight of the world sitting almost visibly on his shoulders.

“He's had a rough week,” Makoto said apologetically. “You made the right call.”

Rei shook his head. “The prince was correct. I have been distracted.”

“Nagisa does that to people.” Makoto laughed. “Come on; I'll walk with you to his quarters.”

“Thank you, Mr. Tachibana.”

“I'd almost forgotten my last name,” he said wryly. “I'm on a first-name basis with everyone in the palace.”

“Including the prince,” Rei mused, then shook himself. “Forgive my impropriety.”

“Nagisa does _that_ to people, too.” He winked. “We all go way back.”

Something like loneliness pinched in Rei's chest before he could dismiss it. “I don't understand the prince's relationship with Mr. Nanase.” He'd turned the pieces he knew over and over in his head to no avail. Rin fetched Haruka soup—a duty hardly befitting his status—but fought him in the dead of night. Rei had seen him stalking the halls near Haruka's room to peek in on him, but he seemed enraged at any mention of his name.

Rei was old enough to remember that Haruka had been born to the throne, but young enough that he hadn't understood his sudden choice to abscond. They'd been almost of an age, and Rei had just decided that the young prince might be worthy of rule when he fled. There'd be sinister murmurs of Rin's hand in the matter, but meeting them both had banished the notion from Rei's mind.

They meant something to one another. They meant something to Makoto, and Makoto meant something to them. Nagisa—Rei's heart warmed. Surely Nagisa meant something to everyone. How could he not?

“They don't, either.” Makoto sighed. “The simplest way to put it...” He trailed off with a frown. “What would be the simplest way to put it?” He crossed his arms and stopped in the middle of the hallway. “They're Rin and Haru.”

Rei pushed up his glasses and waited for several long minutes, but no further explanation seemed forthcoming. “And you?”

Makoto smiled. “Ah, I'm nobody. Just a mother hen.”

“Hardly.” Rei turned quickly to hide his embarrassment. “I doubt that a nobody would be on a first name basis with the ruler of the world.”

Makoto laughed and clapped Rei on the back. “Thanks. That's sweet of you.” Concern overtook the warmth in his expression. “Although that does remind me... We have a lot of work ahead of us.”

Looking after their small community without any hope of outside resources posed quite a problem; Rei had been mulling over the question for weeks.

“The prince's austerity measures are a good first step,” Rei said. “Even if they haven't been well-received by the general populace, they're crucial if we hope to build a sustainable community.”

“They like it even less than you think,” Makoto said quietly. His eyes went unfocused and distant. “They want more help in the fields, more reward for their work.”

“Rather than working harder, we should probably endeavor to reduce the workload as much as possible. The more minds we have working on innovations, the more we can increase our yield. If everyone lives hand-to-mouth, we can't set aside stores for times when illness or harsh weather impede our ability to farm.”

Makoto nodded and tapped a thoughtful finger against his chin. “More emphasis on education, huh? Wouldn't expect anything less from a scholar's son.”

Rei shot a cool look at him. “Never underestimate the importance of knowledge. Science and the arts make us human. They make society beautiful.”

They resumed walking, tossing ideas back and forth as they headed toward Nagisa's quarters. Rei found that he appreciated Makoto’s level-headed sensibility and patience when listening. Even if he called himself a mother hen, Rei suspected he filled the role of an advisor or confidant to the prince—and perhaps was one of the few who could be counted on as a friend by anyone and everyone he met. Rei detected no hint of deceit or malice behind Makoto's warm brown eyes.

“I'll talk to Rin,” Makoto said. “I think he's already got some of those irrigation systems in the works, but another vote of confidence is always good. I like your idea for mandatory schooling, too. Hands-on experience is good for kids, though—they need more than just theories.”

“Theories have served me well thus far,” Rei said stiffly.

“Let me know if you find a theory that lets you into Nagisa's head.” Makoto laughed. “I think it's an anti-science zone.”

Rei looked at Nagisa's open door at the end of the hall and smiled to himself. He'd come to a similar conclusion on his own. “That's why we need art,” he said. “To explain what science can't.”


	14. Chapter 14

Rin dropped into another set of pushups—his fifth since Makoto had joined him in the practice arena. “So Glasses thinks we should work on irrigation?”

Makoto grunted in response; he wasn't quite up to Rin's level of fitness, and talking while training used up too much air. He only kept up with the regimen because Rin was more likely to call it quits to get Makoto to rest than to keep himself from passing out.

“Damn.” Rin huffed. “And I thought it was a good idea.”

“He's a scholar's son,” Makoto managed; the hot air pressed against his skin, pushing out sweat. “Worth listening to.”

“So I'll have some support with the intellectuals, then.” He sighed. “Fat lot of good that does me. They're not gonna be the ones doing the digging.” Looking sidelong at Makoto, he pushed himself up to a crouch and grabbed a towel.

Makoto followed his lead, leaning back against a pillar. “Maybe the laborers would be more willing if you promised their kids would get to go to school.”

Rin tossed him a towel. “Another idea from Glasses?”

“You've had the same thought in the past.”

“Yeah, because it's a good one,” Rin grinned. “Even if Glasses had it, too. Sure. What the hell. I'll call a meeting together—think Nagisa's up to dancing to distract 'em, or has Glasses worn him out?”

Makoto snorted. “I'll eat sand if Rei's so much as kissed him yet.”

“Poor kid. I thought at least one of us was getting some.”

Makoto's face got hot, and he tried to hide it under the guise of mopping up sweat.

“Don't tell me—you and Haru?” Rin's voice sounded oddly constricted. “Hell, you've always been close. I shouldn't be so surprised.”

“It's not like that,” Makoto began, but he didn't know what words should follow. He'd been staying in Haru's chambers for weeks. “You should talk to him.”

“I'm talking to you.”

He hesitated, lowering the towel to examine Rin's face—less angry than he'd expected, and maybe a little hurt. “All three of us have been close,” Makoto said. “It's not like that. We aren't leaving you.” He sighed. “And it's really not what you think. Haru's still recovering.” He'd certainly thought about it, even if he tried not to.

“So you're interested, but you're not pouncing just yet?”

Makoto rolled his eyes. “I don't pounce.”

“That's why none of us are getting any.”

“I could make arrangements for you if you have someone in mind,” Makoto offered, smiling warmly. When Rin flushed red and looked away, he laughed. “You shouldn't tease if you don't want to be teased.”

“I'm a prince. I can do whatever I want.”

“Or whoever, as the case may be.” Makoto laughed as Rin chucked the sweaty towel at his head. It landed damply on Makoto's shoulder.

Rin glared, then cracked up, too.

Makoto draped his own towel over the back of his neck, smiling sidelong at Rin. “I missed this. You haven't been the same since... Well.”

Rin's expression darkened, and Makoto wished he could suck the words back between his teeth.

“Yeah,” Rin grunted. He rested his chin on his knees, a thoughtful expression spreading across his face. “Yeah, I think you're right.” He let out a huff of wry laughter, and Makoto could see the years of rule peel off of him. “Damn, I guess it's been years.”

“You can be Rin _and_ the prince,” Makoto suggested. “Haru misses you. Not Rin, the prince—Rin, his friend.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Remember that time I caught you pinning him against the bathhouse wall?”

“We were wrestling!” Rin snapped, turning red. He reached to tug at the back of his absent crown and pulled the back of his hair instead. “It wasn't like that. Not between Haru and me.”

Something about the way he said it caught Makoto's attention. “Did you want it to be like that?”

Rin said nothing, and Makoto let it go.

“So, you want me to go grab Nagisa and get him ready for a distraction session with the intellectuals and the laborers?”

“Yeah.” Rin ran a hand through his hair and let out a drawn-out sigh. “The intellectuals are gonna need to pony up some more teachers and fewer researchers, and the laborers are gonna have to meet quota without kids on hand. We're gonna need the most distracting dance he's got.”


	15. Chapter 15

“Do I really have to do this?”

“Well, Rin _did_ say he was gonna need my most distracting dance.” Nagisa winked. “I need a test subject.”

Rei snorted, but his cheeks reddened, and he shifted position on his cushion. “If I'm in the experimental group, then who, may I ask, is a part of the control group?”

Nagisa trailed his fingers along Rei's shoulders, pausing the press against his pulse point. “Would you rather be in the control group?” The pulse raced beneath his fingertips, and he grinned. “Because I didn't know you were into that, but I could probably get some tips from—”

“That's not what—” Rei swallowed hard as Nagisa cupped his chin and tilted his face up to meet his eyes. “A control group is—”

“A control group receives no differential treatment,” Nagisa said, putting on his best impersonation of Rei. He laughed and ruffled Rei's hair. “You're also my control group. Duh. You've seen me dance like a bajillion times.”

“There's no such number as a bajillion.”

“Yeah, there is.” Nagisa rolled his eyes. “It's the number of times I've wanted to kiss you.”

Rei froze beneath his hand. “In my case, the number has recently approached eighteen thousand seven hundred and is now rapidly surpassing it.”

Nagisa beamed, running a thumb along Rei's jawline. “Well, if you've only wanted to kiss me half a bajillion times, then I've gotta make you sweat a little longer.”

“Is a bajillion equivalent to thirty-seven thousand?” Rei asked, arching an eyebrow.

“It's equivalent to a joke, silly.” He darted forward and kissed Rei's forehead, pulling away before Rei could react. It only took a twist to get some distance between them—next to Rei, the air had suddenly gotten too thick to breathe.

As if anyone had taught Nagisa to count higher than the number of steps in a dance. As if anyone had ever thought he could do more than that—or even as much as that. The little penguin stumbling over his feet. The little entertainer—who would trust him with a single thought in his head?

Exhilaration prickled under his skin. He loved it—the flirting, the learning, the dancing, the trusting, the teasing. A warm, safe glow hummed in his chest as he surveyed Rei's blush.

Holding out his hand, he grinned. “You know, my dance might be even more distracting with a partner.”

“I think you're sufficiently distracting on your own,” Rei muttered, but his hand closed around Nagisa's. “You're going to have to take responsibility, you know.”

“Ooh, was that your first kiss?”

“That didn't even count as a kiss!”

As Rei began to stand, Nagisa tugged on his hand to throw him off balance and send him stumbling into his arms. With his free arm around Rei's waist, he dipped him low. He leaned in close, then hesitated. “Do you _want_ one that counts?”

“I—” Rei's eyes fixed on Nagisa's lips. “What a preposterous question. I stated that I had felt the desire to kiss you half a bajillion times, did I not?”

Nagisa beamed. “Good.”

He started to wet his lips, and Rei took the moment of hesitation to regain the high ground and dip Nagisa instead, a confident smile on his face. “I've memorized the theory for perfect kissing. I just have to account for the angle of the nose and the—mmmm.”

For all his rock-hard abs and glutes, Rei's lips melted under Nagisa's, pliable and warm. Then he tried to mechanically kiss back and apply pressure with his tongue to what Nagisa assumed a book had told him were key points.

As endearing as the robotic kisses were, Nagisa had a feeling Rei would have more fun if he got the books out of his head for a little bit.

Nagisa buried his hand in the hair at the nape of Rei's neck. A quick hook with his leg to the back of Rei's knee brought him to a more agreeable height—one where he could use his grip to tilt Rei's head up and expose his neck, which Nagisa promptly nibbled with his lips, immensely satisfied by the way Rei's breath caught.

He imagined music—an oud, a ney, an assortment of drums. He traced the rhythm along Rei's collarbone, back up his neck, and paused just over Rei's lips, breathing hard. Swallowing hard, he released his grip on Rei's hair and pressed his lips gently against Rei's.

His blood burned for a heated, passionate kiss, but a small part of him felt oddly timid. Catching jackrabbits got harder every time somebody spooked them, and, even though Rei was hardly a jackrabbit, he could certainly sprint out of reach in about a tenth of a second.

Swallowing hard, he released his grip on Rei's hair and pressed his lips gently against Rei's and pulled back. “Better?”

Nothing could have prepared Nagisa for the reverent expression on Rei's face when he opened his eyes.

“Until you stopped, yes.”


	16. Chapter 16

Haruka lay back against the wall of the bath and sighed heavily. Makoto hadn't let him leave the palace since his squabble with Rin a month or more back, and he hadn't been to the public baths since he'd left in search of other oases. A small series of pools connected by channels formed the baths—the largest water supply that remained in the world, he suspected. They could accommodate fifty or more people at once. He'd never liked crowds, though, so he favored the smallest pool with a screen enclosure.

“Feeling okay?”

“I'm fine,” Haruka said. Compared to his time out on the dunes, he might be in Heaven. “Haven't seen you in a couple of weeks.”

“It's been really hectic, sorry.” Makoto eased himself into the bath beside Haruka. “Rin's been working on negotiations between the scholars and laborers.”

“Oh, right.” He vaguely recalled some mentions of it. “New irrigation projects?”

“Among other things,” Makoto agreed. “But every time Rin tries something new, people get antsy. I've got to smooth things over.”

Haruka examined Makoto—the sleepless nights implied by the bags under his eyes, the weary sag of his shoulders. “You should look after yourself, too.”

“You're one to talk.” A smile tugged at Makoto's mouth. “Have you slept at all?”

Haruka looked away. He could hear the wind howling at night—dragging him away from the safety and comfort of friends and home, stranding him in the middle of endless sands with nothing to eat or drink. Skulls had skittered across the dunes like tumbleweeds, rattling teeth coming free of bleached jaws. They'd become sand someday—whipped about by the wind to bite into skin, still hungry even after death, even after wearing away to nothing.

The wind always howled at night. Without Makoto's steady breathing beside him, he found it hard to anchor himself in the palace.

Makoto's face softened. “I'm sorry, Haru. I'll come back tonight.”

Relief flooded Haruka, but it didn't reach his face. “Good. You need some sleep.”

Makoto laughed warmly, and Haruka's muscles began to unknot. He always understood what Haruka didn't say. He never pushed Haruka to assume the throne, to do anything he didn't feel prepared to tackle.

Even with his expressions worn away by wind and sand and sun, Makoto could read him easily. It made life easier. He wished things could be even half as easy with Rin.

“Maybe I should invite Rin over for a slumber party,” Makoto said, as if reading Haruka's mind—a superpower he'd long suspected. “He could do with some sleep, too.”

“Yeah.” Haruka tried to tamp down the hopeful jitters in his stomach. He wanted to be close to Rin like they'd been as kids. He missed his friend. “Sure, do whatever.”

Makoto's knowing smirk sent Haruka sinking beneath the water, eyes shut to better enjoy the decadence of a warm bath. Not to hide his embarrassment. He wasn't embarrassed.

“Rin'll be happy to see you.” The water warped Makoto's voice. “He's no good at showing it, but he misses you.”

Haruka blew out a stream of skeptical bubbles.

“Okay, okay.” Makoto laughed and held up his hands in mock defeat. “Don't take my word for it. You can see it yourself when we have the slumber party.”

Haruka surfaced begrudgingly, having spent all his air. “If he can spare the time.”

Makoto's brow knitted. “I guess I can't volunteer him just yet. He's got another edict rolling out tomorrow—neither of us know how people will react. He might have 24/7 audiences for a while.”

“Hmm.”

“Then I suppose we'll have to drag him away to get some sleep, huh?” Makoto mused. “Kou can take over for a while if things get heated. Rin does tend to snap if he's tired.”

Haruka almost smiled. Makoto called himself a mother hen, and he wasn't far off the mark. He'd missed that doting nature, even if he had trouble admitting it. Then again, he didn't have to admit it—Makoto always knew. That was the most comforting thing of all. Nobody else felt so safe to be around; they always wanted him to put on an act.

Makoto just wanted him to be comfortable. He never asked more than Haruka could handle. Everyone else tried to pry about his time out on the dunes, but Makoto understood. It helped.

Haruka tried to push the words, 'Thank you,' out of his throat, but they got caught, hitting some invisible barrier. 'You're a good friend,' got likewise trapped. He settled for commenting on someone who wouldn't hear him. “Rin's a good king.”

“Yeah.” Makoto smiled and squeezed Haruka's shoulder. “And maybe someday he'll believe us when we say it.”


	17. Chapter 17

Rin ground his teeth. As his nineteenth audience of the day stomped through the door, he felt ready to strangle half the city. Everyone had enough to eat! Enough to drink! Ever since a flu epidemic two years earlier, he'd even required doctors to perform regular checkups on the populace to make sure everyone got preventative care. _How were they still finding things to complain about?_

He put on his most polite expression, even if he couldn't quite manage a smile. “I am here to listen. What is it you would like addressed?”

The villager jabbed an accusatory finger at the guard with glasses who attended him. “Why the hell have we got a guard if there's no one out there?” he demanded. “We're all alone in this godforsaken desert. Who the hell are they guarding?”

“They investigate criminal matters,” Rin explained. It took a great deal of effort to maintain his regal tone. A headache throbbed at the front of his skull.

“Yeah, like we have enough crime to justify a force that big.” The villager spat on Rin's clean palace floor, and Rin's lip curled with disgust. “I'm not the only one thinking it, you know. Everyone's talking about Prince Rin and his secret police.”

Rin had heard the rumors; he suspected everyone who left the palace had. Between the new austerity measures and class upheaval, his people were getting testy. They didn't have much crime precisely _because_ of their diligent guard and these goddamn awful audiences. They needed to vent. He had to listen. It was the job of the king—not that he could really be called king.

“You are not my enemy,” Rin said.

“ _Sure_ ,” he drawled, dragging out the sound with skepticism. “But how do we know you aren't _our_ enemy?”

Rei's hand leapt to the butt of his sword, and the villager quailed. “Prince Rin has done nothing but—”

“Stand down.”

Puffing out his chest, the villager looked at Rei with such condescension Rin wanted to upturn a chamber pot on his head. “That's right,” he said. “Listen to your master's orders, palace dog.”

Rin stood sharply. “I will not have a member of the guard disrespected in my presence.”

“I'll do it outside, then,” he snapped. “Like all the rest. You tell them to jump, and they ask how high!” He narrowed his eyes as he focused on Rei. “If he told you to chop off my head, you would, wouldn't you?”

“It would be unorthodox and outside of protocol. Prince Rin would not ask me to do so without putting you to a trial before—”

“—before whoever the hell he wants,” the man interrupted. “And if I got one step too close to your precious prince, how long would my head stay attached, huh?”

“Don't be absurd.” Rei pushed up his glasses, suddenly haughty. “It would be a small matter to incapacitate you without killing you.”

“Rei,” Rin's voice came out sharper than he'd intended, and Rei jumped. “I think we've heard this man's grievance. Please escort him to the exit.” He tugged at the back of his crown. “And on your way out, tell Captain Mikoshiba to relieve you from duty. I think you've had enough audiences for one day.”

Rei opened his mouth as if to object, then hesitated. With a sharp bow, he turned and left.

Rin relied on Mikoshiba to be professional. When off-duty, nobody had as bright a smile or as warm a personality, but an on-duty Mikoshiba never wavered. He wouldn't interfere in the audiences—wouldn't stir up extra trouble regardless of his personal feelings. When the audiences wore Rin down, he called in Mikoshiba.

“At least he'll keep a good face even if I start biting people's heads off,” Rin muttered.

Nitori wavered in and out of sight beside him, a furious frown on his face. “They deserve much less,” he said. “Spitting in the face of their king is disgraceful.”

Rin ignored him—ignored the fact that they'd never see him as the rightful king. The heat of afternoon weighed down on the hall, pulling sweat from everyone's brows. He accepted twenty-eight more audiences, each worse than the last, before he realized he'd started tearing his own hair out rather than pulling at his crown—and even then, only Nitori's gentle touch at his shoulder brought it to his attention.

After the eighth person demanding the dissolution of the guard had been escorted away, Rin rose wordlessly and left the chamber to Kou.

The corridors felt stiflingly hot and constricting as he prowled them. Cooks and pages scrambled out of his way without making eye contact. No sign of Makoto or Nagisa out and about. A surge of loneliness commingled with jealousy flared in his chest—maybe they were _otherwise occupied_. They had the luxury of time and freedom for it, even if he didn't.

His feet took him to Haru's chambers before he could notice and stop them. He listened carefully for grunting and groaning before pushing open the silent door.

Haru looked up at him from the bed. Rin had caught him off-guard—Haru's eyes widened with surprise. He looked his age for once—not the middle-aged sage who'd wandered in from the desert with a blank face. He looked like _Haru_. Something about his unguarded expression set Rin's heart pounding.

“Rin.” Haru's voice revealed even more pleasant surprise than his face had. “What are you doing here?”

Rin hesitated. It must have been his imagination—Haru wouldn't be happy to see him. Not after Rin had been such a fucking asshole.

“Long day.”

Haru nodded. “Wanna talk?”

“Not really.”

Haru nodded and scooted over on the bed to make room for Rin. “You need to rest.”

His cheeks burned. Makoto hadn't been kidding about temptation, even though he was tempting enough himself. How had he tolerated months of sharing a bed and not—not doing more than sleep? He swallowed hard. “I'm good,” he lied. “Caught a nap earlier.”

Haru looked away and shrugged. He'd been like that even as a kid—had never pushed.

Rin sighed heavily and sat at the foot of the bed. The open space that separated him from Haru felt like a yawning chasm—even if he held out his hand, he felt like it couldn't possibly bridge the distance. Silence filled it.

“It's good to see you,” Haru said. The words came out flat and forced to Rin's ears. “Makoto says you've been busy.”

“Yeah.” Rin tugged at the back of his crown, then awkwardly removed it to turn it over in his hands. “Lots of people bitching. You know how it is.”

Haru nodded. “You've done a good job. They'll see that.”

“Don't patronize me.” Rin's fingers clenched around his crown. “They want you to be king. They've always wanted you.”

“But they _need_ you.”

A lump formed in Rin's throat. “I told you not to patronize me,” he said. “I'm no king, Haru. No matter how hard I try, it's never—” He broke off as his voice cracked, changing tacks. “You're a natural-born leader. It's not the same. You don't have to work for it.” He stopped himself before he said something as embarrassing as, _'It's not fair.'_ If he wanted to be a king, he damn well had to act like one.

“I'm just a normal person now,” Haru said. “You're the prince. And you're a good prince, too.”

Rin got to his feet, looking determinedly away from Haru. Looking at him would make the expansive sensation in his chest worse. He blinked rapidly, forcing himself not to imagine grabbing Haru by the shoulders and shouting about how blind and stupid he was—not to imagine crushing him in a hug after all these years apart—

It didn't work.

“Things to do,” Rin said, lunging for the door. “People to see.”

“Oh. Take care.”

Rin sprinted to his room, ignoring anyone in his way. By the time he'd pulled out a bowl of water to splash on his watering eyes, the pressure in his chest had begun to recede.

Rin pressed a towel to his face and tried to laugh. “Some king, huh, Nitori?”

Silence answered him.

The attempted laughter congealed in his chest. “Yeah. That's what I think, too.”


	18. Chapter 18

Kou stood on the front steps of the palace, flanked by four guards and the captain. Captain Mikoshiba's presence at her four-o-clock reassured her somewhat as she confronted the crowd's hard, skeptical faces. Rin had worked himself ragged—he lay wheezing in his room, unable to sit, let alone stand.

“Thank you all so much for granting me your time today,” Kou said brightly. “Lately it has come to our attention that there is some confusion about the guard—”

“Palace pigs!” someone jeered. A ripple of assent crossed the crowd, and several people oinked in response. “Rin's dogs!” At this, quite a few people barked.

Kou hesitated between laughing politely and plowing forward until she realized that no one in the crowd had so much as smiled. The insults were meant in all seriousness. Rin might have bristled, but Kou maintained her calm. “—and its duties,” she continued. “While we understand that having such an extensive and well-trained police force may seem unnecessary, we also recognize the need for officers to be available at all hours of the day and night.”

She scanned the crowd hopefully, seeking out friendly faces. She'd spent three or four hours a day for the last two weeks talking to her people and trying to get a feel for what they needed to hear to set them at ease. A cold knot of worry twisted itself in her gut as she realized that the sympathetic commoners she'd spoken to hadn't come—or had been intimidated away by those pushing for the dissolution of the guard.

“Where's the prince?” a woman demanded. “Our time not valuable enough for Rin himself?”

“He's come down with the flu,” Kou explained. “Considering the epidemic we had a few years back, we thought a quarantine—”

“Enough with the excuses,” jeered someone near the back of the crowd. “You're dodging the point!”

“Yeah!” Another person spat at Kou's feet. “We don't need secret police coming and vanishing people in the middle of the night.”

“A very well-kept secret, indeed,” Kou said dryly, looking sidelong at Captain Mikoshiba and his men. Decked out in uniform, they'd hardly sneak anywhere. “And if anyone has vanished, it's the first I've heard of it.”

“What about Eludet Vesken?”

Kou fought the urge to roll her eyes. Of all the ridiculous accusations, this one seemed the most absurd. No one could _vanish_ in a town the size of theirs—let alone someone as loud as Vesken. “I talked to him yesterday, and he seemed as spry as ever. Should we go knock at his door to check on him?”

“Don't you mock me, you little brat—”

“I meant no disrespect.” Kou smiled, but the tension in the crowd didn't ease. “As I was saying...” She reached back for the last thread of her carefully prepared speech. “We also recognize the need for officers to be available at all hours should an emergency occur. No matter how safe our land or how trustworthy our people may be, having trained support in the event of accidents or fights is clearly invaluable.”

“Keeping us under your thumb might be invaluable to you, girlie, but I could certainly do without it!”

Kou's stomach sank. “They're not here to listen,” she said, trying to keep her voice low enough that only Captain Mikoshiba would hear her. She felt with sudden and unshakable certainty that no speech would convince them of their reasons, no matter how calmly delivered or well-thought-out. “Captain, we may need to retreat.”

The woman directly in front of her snorted. “Hear that?” she shouted. “She's had enough of us. Gonna run back home with her tail between her legs.”

“Fuck that! We're not finished with her yet.” The man beside the spitting woman crowded forward, resting one foot on the lowest step. His glare set Kou's heart pounding. “Who do you think you are to take our food and have the fucking nerve to tell us we need twenty-four hour supervision?”

“That's not—”

But something in the crowd flared as if he'd broken an invisible barrier. Suddenly her people hardly looked like people—they moved as one, swarming the steps with rage painting their faces.

Mikoshiba cut between her and the crowd, shouting an order to his men, but they were hopelessly outnumbered—at least thirty to one. She saw a guard with glasses attempt to push back the crowd enough to clear a path of escape, but they overran him immediately, trampling him underfoot. Kou's small size aided her in sidestepping the people attempting to lay hands on her, but the tide of angry citizens buffeted against Mikoshiba's broad shoulders until he, too, sank beneath the crowd.

Kou ducked and weaved through the crowd to his side. Pressing a hand to a gash on his cheek, she hauled his arm over her shoulder. Rin hadn't been the only one training day and night; she was grateful that Mikoshiba didn't weigh more than her usual barbels.

Hands besieged her from all sides, but she slipped through them. She'd learned the habit of keeping her long hair out of her face for training; it kept them from getting a handhold on her as she avoided their sticky fingers.

“Princess—”

She winced at the bruised sound of Mikoshiba's voice and hoped he hadn't broken any ribs. “Talk later,” she said. “Retreat now.”

Though limping, he supported enough of his own weight to get them through the crowd. Trying to look on the bright side, she compared it to dancing, albeit dancing beside a crowd who kept attempting to intentionally crush all of her toes and maybe her face, too. At least she'd gotten the hang of dodging punches on the mat as a kid; it kept her nose from getting flattened two or three times on her way up the stairs.

Mikoshiba twisted in her arms as she reached the palace doors. “My men.”

His hesitation sent her stumbling as she tripped over his feet. Her arms occupied with supporting his weight, she couldn't catch herself in time—she came down hard on her left knee. The stone step cut a deep gash just below the joint, and she hissed.

“Princess—”

She gritted her teeth as she swatted at the hands of her pursuers. “Get inside.”

“But—”

“Captain Mikoshiba.” It took all of her focus to maintain her regal, commanding tone despite the singing pain of her knee as she turned to protect her back against the wall. “Get inside and sound the alarm.”

His eyes darkened, understanding. “Yes, Your Highness.”

She watched him slip between the doors and yank them firmly shut.

If she didn't get the crowd under control, odds were high that at least one person would be crushed to death. She could duck into the palace and bar the doors, abandoning the four guards in the chaos—but damned if she'd let them get trampled to death right outside her home while she could protect them. Even the people rushing forward were at risk.

A sudden energy roared through her, pushing out the ache of her battered knee. Taking in a deep, steadying breath, she pushed herself to her feet and bellowed. “Order!”

The crowd was beyond order, but the shout stunned those closest to her long enough to let her drive an elbow into a gut and a foot into the back of a knee. Not once in all her years as heir had she struck a citizen, but she'd never shirked her duties. A ruler's first duty—above all others—was to protect her people.

Even if she had to protect them from themselves.

The lessons she'd studied in the most detail had been nonlethal takedowns. How to incapacitate a foe without killing them—or even crippling them. The rioters had no such training; they went down easily. They outnumbered her, but she outclassed them. She fought her way back to her podium, clearing a path that groaned with pain behind her. One guard pulled out from beneath three stomping heels—the woman's face bruised and swollen, at least one finger snapped. It took the both of them to haul an old woman out from beneath the crushing tide of the crowd—the old woman just frothed, seething too much for any sort of gratitude.

Kou unearthed a second guard from beneath a dog-pile of frenzied commoners, all punching each other as often as they managed to punch him—but a cut on his forehead bled heavily into his eyes, blinding him from escape. The third guard lay prone nearby, one arm clutching her stomach—where Kou spotted blood.

And the last guard—the one with glasses, now snapped—trapped behind a wall of enraged rioters.

“Take him inside—and that's an order,” Kou shouted. She'd thinned the crowd enough that those near the door had gotten wary; they seemed likely to make it back safely despite their injuries.

Mr. Glasses, on the other hand, worried her a bit more.

“I said,” she began, then breathed deep and shouted, “ _order!_ ”

This time, it had the desired effect. A few rioters stumbled; others ducked to avoid imaginary blows. The guard who'd lost his glasses panted with his back pressed against the wall. She could see his hands trembling.

“You should be ashamed of yourselves,” she snapped. “You nearly crushed Sulen Tiala—and she's hardly the only one you could have killed!”

“I saw you taking people out with—”

“Save it!” Her voice rang out like the crack of a bullwhip, and several people stepped back. “I need to call the palace medics. Anyone who's injured enough to need help should get to the doors.” She ground her teeth. “And anyone in good enough shape to walk should help them get there. Sprained wrists, we can treat. Nobody can bring the dead back to life.”

An ashamed hush spread across the crowd, and she thought of her long-dead parents, may their souls rest in peace. Surely enough onlookers would know what she'd lost.

She glanced at the last guard standing, and her expression softened. He'd held up all right for all that he'd gotten himself trapped. He looked uninjured aside from the lack of glasses.

“If anyone has his glasses, hand them over to me at once,” she said, holding her hand out. The bent frames found their way into her hands, and she frowned at them with pursed lips .Thinking back to his introduction to the court, she remembered Nagisa's terrible pun and the guard's name with a sudden swoop of relief. “These will need repair. Rei, are you capable of organizing medic relief efforts even without your glasses?”

“Y-yes, Your Highness.”

“I'll call more members of the guard to assist you,” she said. “And anyone who lays a hand on _any_ other citizen of my kingdom—guard or not—will find out whether or not we really do have a secret police.”

With that, she turned on her heel and made her way up the steps. The left leg of her pants had gone matted and sticky with blood, and black clouds overtook her vision as she reached the summit.

They grumbled and complied now, but the tension crackled just under the surface of the crowd. She doubted it'd be more than a few weeks before the next riot.

They needed to prepare.


	19. Chapter 19

Rei had been the only guard unhurt in the riot. Part of him wanted to take a great deal of pride in this, but instead something cold and uncomfortable pooled like sludge in his chest. He'd trained to fend off an assassin, an elegant attacker worthy of his skills. He hadn't expected to be besieged by old women and children along with capable adults. He could find no beauty in dodging purses and shovels. And how could he revel in his successes when so many lay injured?

Nagisa rested his head on Rei's shoulder, dispelling such thoughts. “Why are there big letters _and_ small letters?”

“Capital letters indicate the start of something important,” Rei said. “A sentence, a name.” Despite himself, he wrapped his left arm around Nagisa's waist as his right hand guided Nagisa's in the shape of his name.

Nagisa giggled and elbowed him. “So does that make you more important because you're bigger than I am?”

“Hardly.” His arm tightened protectively around Nagisa's waist. “People aren't like the alphabet. We're nowhere near that tidy.”

Nagisa added an unnecessary flourish at the end of his name and brought Rei's hand to his lips to kiss it. “I like people.”

To that, he could say nothing.

“Well, mostly I like you,” Nagisa said brightly. “Thanks for this.”

“You're a quick learner,” Rei said. He pressed a kiss to the top of Nagisa's head, hoping to disguise the flush rising in his face in his golden curls. He inhaled deeply to steady himself and found the scent of incense dizzying. “It's no trouble to teach you.”

“Try telling that to Ms. Hemson.” Nagisa snorted. “She’d box your ears for lying.”

Rei bristled. “Perhaps I _would_ like to speak with this Ms. Hemson.” He pulled back and reached to straighten his glasses, remembering they’d broken only as his fingers met air. “Her judgment certainly sounds quite poor for someone meant to be educating others.”

“Is this how you spell your name?”

Momentarily shaken out of the fury that had gripped him, Rei looked down. “You’ve used all capitals.”

“That’s because you’re important all over, not just at the beginning.”

Rei smiled. “You certainly have a way with words.”

“Yeah, I think I’m getting the hang of it!” Nagisa wrote another row filled with nothing but REI REI REI, then switched to lower-case letters. He dotted each little _i_ with a heart or star. “This isn’t so bad.”

“As I said, you are a capable student.”

“Nah.” Nagisa idly smoothed a wrinkled corner of the page. “Maybe you’re just a really good teacher.”

Before Rei could argue further, Nagisa twisted suddenly to peck a kiss against his cheek. Instead of his reasonable counter-argument, a sputtering and wholly undignified sound left Rei’s mouth.

Of course Nagisa looked delighted at this. Rei had never expected otherwise.

“So, Mr. Ryuugazaki,” Nagisa said, batting his eyelashes up at him. “What else can you teach me?”

Heat rose again in his cheeks, and his fingers found air once more as they reached to hide his face--rather, to adjust his glasses. “Well, I think that mathematics can be rather--”

Nagisa’s hand reached up to cup his cheek, and the words left him.

“Study break!” Nagisa said brightly. He pulled Rei’s head down to kiss the tip of his nose. “I wrote five lines, just like you asked.”

“And all of them were my name.”

“Not all of them.” He tapped the page pointedly to draw Rei’s attention. “See?”

Rei squinted down at it, missing his glasses. “That’s not a word at all.”

“Sure it is.” Nagisa huffed. “If you put Rei and Nagisa together, you get Reigisa!”

Rei covered his glasses gesture by pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s not how you put names together, Nagisa.”

“That’s why I also wrote it like this.” Nagisa tapped again, and Rei stared hard at the text, his breath catching in his chest.

“You intend to take my last name?”

“Well, yeah.” Nagisa rolled his eyes and grinned. “If I ever have to hear you call me, ‘Mr. Hazuki,’ again, I’ll cry.”

Something soft and fragile settled in Rei’s heart. He had to force his next question out. “What are we doing, Nagisa?”

“Courting, duh.” Nagisa looked up at him, a frown creasing his brow. “We _are_ courting, right? I thought--with the kisses and all, it seemed kind of. You know.” He hesitated. “You’re not like the creeps who just want to throw me into bed and leave to brag about it. You keep taking the time to really talk to me. And even teach me. Nobody’s really treated me like that before. It’s nice.”

Courtship. Relief and excitement flooded Rei’s body, prickling just under his skin. Courtship was serious--it meant a kind of commitment. He’d read enough pre-war texts to know about dating in the past; courting might be called _going steady_ in a historical work. More than that, perhaps. An underlying expectation of future promise--a life together--ran like a current beneath the word.

He’d spent close to a year getting to know Nagisa, and still he found surprises waiting for him. No one had ever spoken to him so frankly about such things--and he appreciated Nagisa’s teasing and humor and bluntness. He made good company.

Tallying the sudden urges to kiss Nagisa that flurried around his chest, he thought he might have finally surpassed that mythical bajillion.

Rei cleared his throat. “So long as I have your permission, I most certainly would like to court you.”

“Permission,” Nagisa repeated, rolling the word around in his mouth. He grinned. “Hey, I like that.” He nuzzled against Rei’s chest. “I grant you permission to court me, my brave guard!” He giggled. “The guard and the dancer. How sordid.”

Rei imagined the word sordid with Nagisa’s characteristic heart dotting the eye and couldn’t suppress a grin of his own. “You sully my character.”

“To tempt the brave, stoic guard, the courtesan dances.” Nagisa hummed happily to himself, and Rei found that he recognized the tune--one to which Nagisa had often danced. “Yeah. I really like that. It’s just like a fairy tale.” He pressed a soft kiss to Rei’s neck, and heat surged beneath the skin at the point of contact.

It fit. Rei had always stuck to the textbook--but art existed to fill the gaps that science couldn’t yet broach.

Rei thought of the rioters and growing unease beyond the palace walls. “I wonder whether we’ll get a happily ever after.”

“Duh.” The certainty in Nagisa’s voice soothed some of the fear in Rei’s gut. “That’s how fairy tales _work_. Bad stuff happens, they overcome it, and then they live happily ever after.”


	20. Chapter 20

“And what's a nice young man like you doing in that brat's employ?”

His twenty-eighth trip into the village since the riot, and they still asked him every time. Makoto put on a friendly smile. “The prince and I are good friends,” he said. “He sends you his best wishes.” A lie, but a nice one; even two weeks later, Rin had yet to recover from the flu. Despite their careful quarantine, half the palace had caught it; Makoto was among the lucky few who'd remained strong and healthy.

And most of the villagers liked him—more than they liked the guards, at least. He wanted to put a friendly face on the palace. So he'd gone into town twice a day to smooth things over. And if he listened to some of their complaints, well, maybe they'd complain a little less to Rin and Kou, who were overworked enough as it was.

The man clapped him on the back, and Makoto considered himself dismissed. He made his way back to the palace, keeping an ear trained on the grumbling in the corners of the marketplace. Two tense weeks had passed since the riot, but none of his visits had eased the tension enough to calm his concerns. They liked Makoto—a few had gone so far as to call him a bedrock of the community—but they didn't like Rin, and they couldn't stand the austerity measures.

Rei stood guard at the doors of the palace. Makoto nodded to him.

“How've you been?” he called, waving up the stairs at him. “Haven't seen you in nearly a week.”

In truth, it looked like Rei hadn't slept in at least that long; dark shadows lined his eyes. Even so, he smiled back. “We've been keeping fourteen-hour shifts.” He yawned and blinked his watering eyes as Makoto stopped beside him. “Short-staffed. Captain's down with the flu.”

Makoto squeezed his shoulder. “It’s no good to overwork yourself. Can anybody pitch in?”

“Not just anyone is qualified,” Rei said, but he swayed a little. He steadied himself by using the butt of his spear like a walking stick. “And we can’t leave the palace undefended.”

Makoto’s brow furrowed with thought. “Of course.” Rei had a point—tensions were too high to risk something like that. “Have you gotten a chance to sneak off and catch Nagisa, at least?”

A stricken expression crossed Rei’s face, and Makoto wished he hadn’t asked.

“No.” Rei looked down at his feet. “Not for a week now. We’ve been leaving letters for each other, though.”

“Letters?” Makoto repeated. “Nagisa can write?”

Rei puffed out his chest with sudden pride, some of the light coming back into his eyes. “His spelling needs work, but I can usually interpret what he’s getting at.”

“Can I see?” From the blush that burned across Rei’s face, Makoto had a feeling the letters weren’t for anyone’s eyes but Rei’s. He quickly raised his hands in apology. “Sorry, that’s pretty personal. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Rei nodded, still red to the tips of his ears. “Thank you for your understanding and discretion.”

Makoto shifted his weight awkwardly from foot to foot. “Can I get inside the palace?”

“Of course.” Rei turned to open the door for Makoto, and suddenly the drumming of boots on stone tore up the stairs behind them.

Makoto barely managed to turn before the tide of people crashed against the doors, battering them both back against the stone wall. His head rang—his vision went oddly haloed and blurred. He pressed a hand to the back of his skull, relieved when it didn’t come away bloodied.

Makoto looked up to see Rei swinging his spear at the crowd—blunt side out, harmless—already ducking and weaving through the onslaught.

The crowd roared, dozens of voices yelling out at once: “Gotta hoard all the food for yourself?”—“Pig!”—“We’re hungry, too!”—“We grew that food!”—”You’ve got no right!”

Fifty well-rested men and women against a single weary guard could never be a fair fight; they overwhelmed Rei in moments, trampling him as they pushed their way into the palace.

“Rei!” As the last of them pressed inside, Makoto scrambled over to Rei’s crumpled form.

“They’ve breached the palace walls,” Rei wheezed. He fished a ramshorn from a hook at his belt and bleated through it. The horn had been cracked by the flood of villagers, though—the sound was too weak to carry.

“We have to get you to the—”

“There’s no time!” Rei snapped. He pushed himself painstakingly to his feet. “They’re at risk—and it’s my fault.” Grief drew his face taut before panic drove it aside. “Nagisa is dancing for the prince.”

Rei ran, limping, down the hall, and Makoto took off after him.

The palace had never had much in the way of artwork or frivolities; Rin preferred function to form. The handful of pre-war relics that Kou had insisted on keeping lay splintered on the floor in the wake of the crowd—old gadgets Makoto had hoped might someday be coaxed into working again. Anyone who’d been in the halls had ducked out of sight, hopefully to safety.

The wreckage and clamor made it simple work to track the crowd to the chamber where Rin entertained the wealthiest merchants. The villagers filled the room to the brim, shredding cushions and shattering pitchers of priceless water in their fury. Rin shouted orders, his voice still hoarse from illness, but none of his words breached the crowd.

Makoto watched in horror from the doorway, unable to enter. Rei had no such hesitation; he dove into the heart of the riot at once.

“Nagisa!” he screamed. Makoto had never heard him so frightened. “Nagisa, where are you?”

“Help!”Nagisa sounded like a child again—harassed by his siblings, by peers who scorned dancers. Makoto had always rushed to his aid.

Suddenly reality struck. Fury boiled beneath Makoto’s skin, driving back the ringing in his head. He realized dimly that no one would hear him over the roar of the crowd. He needed something loud—something to snap them out of it.

His eyes fastened on the musician’s pit near where Nagisa danced. There would be drums—maybe gongs—in there. Makoto sprinted over to them, casting aside a drum that had been split with a foot and hunting for the big, booming one they used in special performances.

There. He grabbed a mallet and slammed it against the animal hide, sending a rolling boom across the hall. Those nearest to the drum leapt away from the sound, colliding with the next ring of people and sending a domino effect rippling through the room.

Taking advantage of the chaos, he leapt to his feet and bellowed. “What are you _doing_?”

Half the crowd had been knocked to the floor, sprawling like a carpet. Some looked at each other, but no one spoke before he plowed forward.

“Look at yourselves,” he snapped, sweeping an arm before him. “What are you trying to do?”

“Get food,” one man said, but his voice was meek.

“No one has starved to death since Rin took office,” Makoto said. “Have any of you been denied your rations?”

“The rations are exactly the problem!” another person shouted. “All of you are up here feasting in the palace while we struggle to get by on a bowl or two of soup.”

“Do you see a feast anywhere?” Rin’s voice broke through. “Even I eat the same fucking rations as all of you. I get the same allotment of grain, fruit, vegetables—I don’t get a bite of meat more than any of you.”

“I’m not a moron—”

“He’s telling the truth!” Makoto roared. Those who’d gotten back to their feet flinched away from his voice, and he realized that none of them had ever realized mama bears had claws. “I measure the rations—everyone eats the same in this kingdom. What little is leftover gets preserved in case of another famine.”

A pinched, hungry look came across the older faces in the crowd. They at least remembered the famine when Haruka’s father—may his soul rest in peace—had reigned. The exact sort of crisis Rin was trying to prevent.

Makoto squared his jaw and straightened his back. “Get out.”

Something about his expression must have frightened them; those nearest the doors scrambled to get out, and the others soon followed. Those who remained stubborn got dragged out by their ears. He dusted off his hands after he slammed the door behind the last of them, and the rage left him.

He made his way to the hall that had been converted into a resting place for the injured. Nagisa and Rei shared a pallet on the floor by the far wall; he made his way around the others to kneel beside them. The rest could wait.

Blood stained the bandage wrapped around Nagisa’s head, and bruises marred every visible inch of Rei’s skin. They lay curled together, Rei’s chin resting gently on Nagisa’s head, his arms shielding him from the rest of the room.

“Hey,” he said, keeping his voice soft. “How are you two holding up?”

“He _rei_ -scued me,” Nagisa said brightly. His grin revealed a split lip as he twisted to look up at Makoto. “Isn’t that right?”

Rei laughed weakly, and Makoto suspected broken ribs from the way pain pulled at his brow.

“I’m proud.”

“Nagisa hit one of them over the head with a sitar,” Rei said.

Makoto arched an eyebrow. “Proud of both of you, then.”

“You were the one who got them under control,” Rei said.

“The drum kind of helped.”

“That was _loud_ ,” Nagisa said, making a show of digging his finger into his ear. “I’m still hearing bells.”

“Well, the doctors will help with that.” Makoto glanced around to look for the nearest physician and instead saw a woman in a splint trying in vain to reach a glass of water. He got to his feet automatically. “And maybe I can help the doctors.”

 


	21. Chapter 21

“Good morning, my little _rei_ of sunshine!” Nagisa watched Rei’s face as the morning light filled the room. They’d managed to get themselves to Nagisa’s quarters rather than staying in the sickbay, but Makoto had been in and out all week. This rare moment of alone time wasn’t one he intended to miss.

“I’d return the pun, but your name is a bit trickier to wordsmith.” Rei smiled, a bit of pink tinting his cheeks.

Nagisa raised a hand to run a finger along Rei’s chin, delighting in the morning stubble. Rei with bedhead—Rei sleepy-eyed and just waking up—was a Rei that he didn’t intend to share with anyone else.

Rei returned the gesture with a warm hand against Nagisa’s cheek, even though Nagisa had never managed to grow more than the slightest bit of peach fuzz. Really, it was a shame. He wanted a big full beard. He could hide things in a beard. And then he could tickle Rei with his face. It’d be hilarious.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Oh, nothing.” Nagisa grinned at him. “I just love you, is all.” He stuck out his tongue. “And I don’t love you just because I took a pretty solid hit to the head.”

Rei’s hand ghosted over the bandage still secured to Nagisa’s temple, and concern tugged at his face. “I love you, too.”

It felt nice to hear even after a week of saying it all the time. Nagisa hoped it’d always feel nice.

“How do your ribs feel?”

“Just bruised,” Rei said dismissively. He tipped his chin arrogantly. “I’m here only to guard you.”

That was a lie, but a sweet one. Nagisa buried his head between Rei’s neck and the pillow, breathing deep. “My hero.”

Rei rested his hands on Nagisa’s back a little too gently to really call it a hug. But with bruised ribs, Nagisa could hardly return it with the back-cracking hug he wanted.

“How’s your head?”

“Well, I’ve stopped seeing halos all over the place.” Nagisa laughed against the crook of Rei’s neck. “Now the only halo I see is yours.”

Rei sighed heavily. “Halos are preposterous. A trick of the light at best.”

Nagisa giggled. “I meant your bedhead.”

At this, Rei huffed. It was almost a laugh—as much of one as he’d managed since the siege of the palace had banged up his ribs. “Of course.”

“Think we could practice writing today?”

Makoto’s voice emanated from the doorway, startling the boys apart. “Not unless that gash on your head has miraculously healed overnight.”

Nagisa checked that the bandage hadn’t budged before grinning. “It’s been healed with the power of love.”

Rei switched sides of the bed with Nagisa wordlessly, granting Makoto access to look Nagisa over. He’d gotten into the habit of sleeping between Nagisa and the door as if worried that someone would attack in the middle of the night. Nagisa thought it was gallant of him, especially since Nagisa tended to take up the bed all on his own, once or twice crowding him off the mattress entirely and onto the floor. It felt safer with Rei on hand.

That warm, knowing smile of Makoto’s always made Nagisa feel safe, too. He submitted to Makoto’s mothering as bandaged got checked and wounds got cleaned. Finally, Makoto stood back. “I think that a bit more medicine wouldn’t hurt.” He looked solemnly at Rei. “I’m going to have to ask you to increase his daily dose of love to about triple what it is is currently.”

Nagisa wished he’d been watching Rei’s face—he made a truly inhuman sound at the suggestion. By the time Nagisa had twisted around to look at him, he’d hidden his face under a pillow.

“If he loves me any more, I’ll combust,” Nagisa said sagely. “One person’s not meant to handle so much adoration and worship.”

“Worship?” Rei choked out, pulling the pillow away to reveal his crimson face.

Nagisa tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Y’know, I could get into that, actually. I think I have some costumes in my wardrobe.”

“They wouldn’t fit Rei,” Makoto reminded him. “I could try to borrow one for you, but I’m not sure they’ll want it back after. You might have to buy one.”

“Enough, please.”

“Aw, all right.” Nagisa gave a good impression of a long-suffering sigh. “Only because I love you.”

Makoto chuckled. “It’s good to hear you two back in good spirits. You’re infectious.”

“The _flu_ is infectious,” Rei said flatly.

Nagisa laughed harder than the joke warranted. “I’ve caught a truly ter- _rei_ -ble illness, Doctor!” Dramatically swooning against the bed, he put the back of his hand against his forehead. “I’ve been bitten by _th_ _e lovebug_!”

They both laughed--well, Rei wheezed, at least--and Nagisa felt somewhat better. He couldn’t stand to see Makoto sad. And he’d been sad ever since he’d gotten done being angry, Nagisa could tell. He looked far away even when he joked. It took work to get him back to his old self.

Fortunately, Nagisa’s entire life had been devoted to the study of entertainment.

Makoto ruffled his hair, and he looked more like himself again. “Good luck with that. I’ve heard there’s no cure.”

And then a bit of sadness touched his expression, and he’d gone a million miles away from them again.

“Are the prince and Mr. Nanase all right?” Rei asked, his voice suddenly serious.

Makoto half-turned away, looking past the doorway. “Haru was out of the way for the riot, and Rin’s gotten over the flu.” He hesitated. “They’re fine.”

“Do you think they’ll come over and say hi?”

“Rin’s probably too busy for that, but Haru might.” He didn’t sound confident, though. “I’d better go help the physicians. I’ll have someone bring you your medicine later; we’re running low, so I need to put in a new order.”

“See you,” Nagisa said, waving goodbye with false cheer.

Makoto’s returning smile felt flat. “Take care of each other.”

The silence barely lasted ten seconds before Nagisa sighed heavily and snuggled back against Rei. “Think he’s okay?”

“He’s more capable than half the women and men in the palace. I’m sure he’s fine.” Rei pressed the softest kiss imaginable to the back of Nagisa’s head. “For now, let’s look after you.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Author's note: Looking at the averages, I get more comments (often as private messages) about how short my chapters are and how tired people are of my pairings than...really anything else? Originally this was commission work, but the commissioner has stopped paying. I tried keeping up with it anyway, but I don't want to work on something people don't enjoy. Each chapter can take me three or more hours, and I just can't sacrifice that kind of energy for, well, something worthless. Even so, I've never abandoned a fic before--the payments stopped maybe fifteen chapters ago, and I kept pushing anyway. But I'm tired. So tired.
> 
> So, uh. What I'm saying is that, if you enjoy this fic, speak now or forever hold your peace. Because otherwise the numbers are hard to deny. I'll post through chapter 24 regardless, but, past that, I might just post the outline of the rest and call it a day.
> 
> I'm not fishing for compliments. I just want to work on something worth actually writing, and I don't get the feeling that many people view this fic as such...))

Haruka turned his satchel over in his hands. Like his hood, it had become like a second skin when he'd wandered the dunes. He'd kept next to nothing inside—the need for light travel surpassing almost everything else—but it still smelled of cured meat and salt even months after his return.

He'd want more water with him this time.

Setting the bag on the floor beside him, he rocked back onto the balls of his feet. Two canteens hadn't been enough. Even four would leave him thirsty, and the weight would slow him down. He'd need to bring the solar distiller to clean whatever he did find, too. Would that leave enough room for a whole kill whenever he managed to catch something?

He hadn't thought his first trip through. This time he'd need to be prepared to survive on his own until he reached the sea. Where there was water, there was life. He'd walked for five years without finding the sea, but he'd focused on the mainland. His studies had assured him it remained, that water could not simply cease to exist.

If he'd never returned, they would never have known they were alone in the world. If they hadn't had their hopes dashed, the riots would never have begun. Rin had been worn ragged by illness and protests despite ruling more effectively than any other king. No one respected him.

Haruka had done that to him.

The distiller, then. Five cannisters of water, too, and some salted meat. It'd be enough to get him a day or two out over the sands. At least it'd be the end of taking rations that weren't meant for him.

Haruka secured his hood and traveling clothes and checked his bag once more. A hollow ache throbbed in his chest, but he dismissed it. This time, at least, he'd prepared. Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe there was help out beyond the sands.

He snuck out of his room and headed for the kitchens. Makoto had been helping the physicians for weeks and seldom made his rounds to the other areas of the palace. He wouldn't understand—or maybe he would. Haruka pressed a hand against the ache in his chest and knew that he wouldn't be able to refuse Makoto's company a second time. But the kingdom _needed_ Makoto.

What Haruka needed was irrelevant.

As he slipped out the back door to the kitchens, a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“Where do you think you're going?” Kou demanded.

“Out.”

“If you're going to try to talk to the villagers, don't bother.” She released his arm and sighed heavily. “They might listen to you if you took back the crown, but they're deaf to anything else. You were born to the throne.”

“Rin is the king,” Haruka said. He stared out into the low light of evening, the best time to travel, and couldn't bring himself to step out onto the sand. “I'm an ordinary person.”

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, examining the confusion on her face. She hadn't guessed what he intended. He could still get away.

“If you assume control of the city, the respect they had for your father—may he rest in peace—will pass to you. But you can't expect them to listen to you if you...” She trailed off, her eyes settling on his hood, and sudden understanding and clarity washed her expression clean. “You're not going out to talk to the villagers.”

“No.”

“You—” Her eyes flicked over to his bag, and she swallowed hard. “Does Makoto know?”

“No.”

“You can't.” When he made to take a defiant step outside, her hand fastened around his upper arm. “Did anyone tell you that he cried for months after you left?”

The ache in his chest swelled, pressing against his heart and lungs and ribs. He couldn't breathe; he said nothing.

“Because he did.” Her voice shook. “And so did Rin.”

At this, Haruka twisted around, looking at her incredulously. “Rin asked me to go.”

“What?”

“That night—after we fought.” He tried to find the words. “I won, and he called himself a commoner. Not worthy of speaking to a king.” Even years later, the thought stung. “So I said I wouldn't be the king.”

Her brow furrowed. “I don't hear anything about him exiling you.”

But the crown had meant too much to Rin. Seeing how easily Haruka dismissed it—no amount of time would ever erase the hurt and rage that had flooded his face. “He told me to get out.” He'd sounded deathly serious, too. “He said he never wanted to see me again.”

“He says that to me twice a week,” she said. “He doesn't mean anything by it.”

Haruka looked away. Sure, Rin said things like that from time to time, but never like he had that night. His voice had been so full of pain—pain Haruka had caused—that Haruka had known he meant it. Some part of their friendship had broken during that fight. Even after months of trying to repair it, things remained sharp and fragile between them.

“He didn't mean anything by it,” Kou repeated, tightening her grip on his arm. “He cried every night for half a year after you left. He wants you here.”

He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. “If I hadn't come back, the riots wouldn't have started.”

“Nuh uh.” She snorted. “Don't give me that. It's the austerity measures. That and they've been mad since the day your father—may he rest in peace—passed away. It wasn't you.” Her voice softened. “Stay.”

“I just want to be an ordinary person,” Haruka said, his voice rough. “Rin fought for their respect. He deserves the crown.”

“I'll talk to him,” she promised. “ _Stay_.”

He'd expected Makoto to stop him, but he'd thought no one else cared where he went. That even Makoto would accept his departure eventually.

Had they really cried for weeks? Months? His heart clenched.

“All right.” When Kou's grip on his arm didn't loosen, he closed his eyes and tried again. “I'll stay.”


	23. Chapter 23

“Haru tried to book it today.”

Rin's head snapped up to look at his little sister. He motioned for her to shut the door. “What the hell are you talking about, Kou?”

“He tried to leave.” She sank into the seat across the desk from him. “Packed a bag and tried to sneak off into the desert.”

It knocked the wind from his chest, more violent than a blow to the solar plexus; he found himself on his feet without any memory of standing. “ _Where is he?_ ”

“Back in his room,” she replied, unfazed. “It's a good thing I caught him.”

His feet itched to take him to Haru's room—to grab him by the shoulders and shake him and demand to know what he'd been thinking—but fear settled like a pall in his heart, and he stilled. “Why?”

“He thinks it's his fault,” she replied. “The riots, I mean. And he doesn't think you want him here.”

“Of course I want him here!” His voice got away from him, too loud for the quiet room, and he winced. “Why the hell would he think that?”

“Because he brought the bad news.”

Rin's hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I'm not about to shoot the fucking messenger. We needed to know we couldn't go looking for help. We needed to know that these were the only resources we could get. It was a fucking damn good thing he brought us that news.”

“Tell him, not me.” When Rin looked at her, she shrugged. “We've spent weeks figuring out what the village needs. Months. But right now, I think we need to figure out what _you_ need, big bro.”

“I'm the ruler, I—”

Her eyes narrowed. “You are _human_ , just like everyone else.”

“Is this a coup?” he demanded, arching an eyebrow at her.

She laughed so abruptly that he was taken aback. “We can rule jointly. Half the trouble for each of us, right?”

He hesitated, not sure how to answer. They'd talked about it as children, as young adults, as heirs—Kou didn't want the throne any more than Haru did. He'd been trying for years to take the work on himself; at least he _wanted_ to rule. Even if he fucked it up when ruling alone.

“Kou...”

“Go get him, lover boy.” Kou stuck out her tongue. “Grab Makoto. You might need reinforcements.”

Rin stuck his tongue back out at her and ruffled her hair as he sprinted for the door. “Tag! You're queen for the day.”

She laughed again, and Rin thought back to when they'd been kids—when they'd played stupid games like that every day. Haru had played, too. Reticent and quiet and dignified until you got him laughing, even though he'd fiercely deny he ever laughed. Rin's heart stuttered as he thought of serious little Haru walking out alone into the dunes without so much as a goodbye.

“Hey.” He poked his head around the corner into the doctors' quarters. “I'm borrowing Makoto for a few hours.”

Makoto looked up at once, concern flooding his face. “What's wrong now?”

“We need to drop by an old friend for a visit,” he answered, ducking back out of the room. “Come on.”

Even princes weren't too dignified to run; people knew he had so many places to be he'd need a clone to make it to all of them. And if they didn't know, they should.

“What's wrong with Haru?” Makoto panted, catching up. “Did something happen?”

“The fucking moron tried to run for it.”

Agony spread across Makoto's face, and Rin wished he could take back the words, rephrase it to gentle the blow.

“Haru did?”

Rin nodded, rounding the corner to tear through the last hallway separating him from his friend. The door stood open at the end of the hall, and fear swelled inside him—he could've run while Kou was distracted. Hell, they'd all been distracted. Who would've noticed until he was a mile out—too far to catch up to him on foot?

He came to a stumbling halt in Haru's doorway, wheezing as he tried to catch his breath. Relief flooded him as his eyes met Haru's. Unthinkingly, he ran forward and crushed Haru in a hug so tight it pushed all his words to the surface.

“Don't you dare leave.” Rin realized belatedly that he was shaking—that his vision had gone blurry. “Royal orders. “ He sniffed hard, trying to keep back the sudden urge to cry. “Fuck.”

Haru creakily closed his arms around Rin, and it just made everything feel worse—knowing that no one had hugged Haru in so long he didn't know how to hug back, knowing that Rin had had him within arm's reach for the better part of a year and had been too much of a fucking _coward_ to actually break the barrier.

“Rin?”

And there was the soft, serious Haru that Rin had known all those years ago. The one who'd looked at him with eyes like saucers when he threw a tantrum after a stupid fight. The one who'd gone and quietly packed his bags and left. Never one to push. Flowing like water down the path of least resistance.

“Don't you fucking dare,” Rin sobbed. Hell, _he_ hadn't had a hug in months—maybe longer. The last contact he could remember had been when he'd ruffled Nitori's hair. “Stay with us. You have to stay.”

“Okay.” Haru's hands rubbed against his back, soothing him. “I'll stay.”

“Damn right, you will.” Rin sniffed hard and pulled back just enough to look Haru in the eye. He meant to say something else, but a wavering phantom at the edge of his vision distracted him. Nitori.

Makoto stepped up beside them both, not reaching out to Haru. Even though Makoto gave physical affection freely to his friends, Haru had always maintained a respectful distance. Rin knew how hard it was to bridge that gap.

It was bullshit. He'd had enough of it.

He withdrew one arm from Haru and used it to yank Makoto into the hug. Taller than the both of them, Makoto's head rested on theirs—and it felt _safe_. It felt like home. The three of them together fit just like they always had, as if the years that had pushed them apart had been rolled back. They were teenagers again, friends again, and Rin loved them both. He'd spent years pushing it away—focusing on ruling—but Kou knew him better than that.

She'd said he needed this. Tightening his arms around the two people he'd die protecting, he knew she'd been right.

Damn it.

As the heady rush of relief faded, awkwardness rushed to take its place. Fuck. The villagers hated him—Haru and Makoto would have targets on their backs if people knew how much he cared about them. And even they themselves probably didn't know how much he cared, because Rin was fucking awful at showing how he felt.

He stepped back. The two of them made such a perfect picture—Makoto's head resting on Haru's hair, Haru's now free hand reaching to hold onto the hem of Makoto's shirt. Inexplicable emotions expanded in Rin's chest, fighting for dominance. They needed each other more than they needed him—and they'd be safer that way.

Trying to disguise the embarrassment rising in his chest, he forced a laugh. “You two should just kiss already.”

Makoto shot a frantic look at him over Haru's head, but Haru only frowned thoughtfully.

Giddy and nervous, Rin tugged at the back of his crown. “Come on. You look like you're already married.”

Haru looked up at Makoto, his face smooth. “Do you want to kiss me?”

“I, uh.” Makoto's face turned bright red. “Uh. Well, I.” His eyes flicked over to Rin, and Haru followed his gaze.

Haru's eyes pierced Rin's heart. “Do _you_ want to kiss me?”

From the way his face suddenly felt hot enough to fry eggs, Rin had a feeling his blush matched his hair. “Uh.”

Haru glanced back and forth between them, then pulled away from Makoto, looking at the floor. “You shouldn't joke about that.”

Despair flooded Makoto's face. “That—that's not—!”

“You moron,” Rin said, puffing out his chest to convince himself more than Haru of his courage. “Of course he wants to kiss you.”

“Rin!” Makoto pleaded, but Haru just looked up at them with the same smooth and expressionless face he'd worn ever since he'd gone out into the dunes.

Rin imagined Haru and Makoto getting crushed in a tide of rioters, and he managed to keep in his own confession. That, yes, he wanted to kiss Haru—had wanted to kiss the both of them for years and years. That he'd missed Haru every goddamn day he'd been gone. He'd managed to hold himself together when Haru came home, if only because he'd been so _angry_ that Haru had actually left. He could hold himself together now.

Haru just sighed heavily and sank back onto his bed. Rin looked away to avoid temptation—and his eyes met Nitori's. Like sinking into cool water, it drew him up out of his embarrassment and settled his nerves.

“You said he was to stay,” Nitori said, unheard by the others. “While I have limited power, I can at least keep him within my borders. He feels the draw of water more than most.”

Rin glanced at the others to check whether they felt any sort of presence—whether they knew Nitori existed at all—only to find  Makoto cupping Haru's cheek, fingers shaking and face red . His throat constricted, and he turned toward the door. 

“My Liege?”

All his relief settled like a cold pall across his skin, congealing into regret. He knew he couldn't put them in danger. They needed better—they needed each other.

_'We need to figure out what **you** need, big bro.'_

He needed them to be safe.

Stumbling outside, he made for the nearest open door. He stepped inside and breathed deep to steady himself. But the room smelled of sandalwood and fresh soap and  _Makoto_ . Of course, it had to be Makoto's room—right next to Haru, where else? His eyes stung.

“My Liege?” Nitori flowed into place beside him. “If you wish to join them, I can offer you privacy.”

Rin twisted one fist in fabric of his shirt, attempting to drive back the sudden ache. “I'm fine.”

Skepticism lined Nitori's face, reminding Rin that he was several centuries older than he appeared to be.  The distance stung. 

“My Liege,” Nitori began, and Rin prickled.

“Rin,” he said. “Fuck, Nitori. You've known me long enough. Aren't we friends?”

“Friends?” he repeated, wonder spreading across his face. “You consider us to be friends?” When Rin nodded, tears pooled in his eyes. “When I was not yet isolated from others of my kind, they called me by another name. The kings called me Nitori, but my friends—they called me Ai.”

“Ai,” Rin said, and Nitori—Ai—seemed to ripple, almost like a reflection disturbed by a hand. His cheeks shone red as the setting sun on his waters. “I like that name. It suits you.”

“Thank you, My—” He caught himself and straightened. “Thank you, Rin. I am honored to call you my friend.” The tears evaporated as he grinned. 

“I don't have many of those,” Rin said. Another deep breath for a sigh sent a sharp reminder throughout him—Makoto's scent intermingled with Haru's. Who knew what they were getting up to after months of sexual tension. He felt his jaw tighten, and he tamped down the uncharitable surge of envy. Maybe Haru had been right about giving up the crown. The crown kept people away.

Ai followed his gaze to the door. “They consider you a friend.”

Rin snorted. “Let 'em have their moment.” He glanced at Ai and found himself grateful that the crown had brought him one friend, at least—one no rioter would be able to hurt. “ How often do you spy on people?”

“As the crown has need,” Ai said, but the sunset-colored blush spread once more across his face. It made him look less human—and yet more like himself. “I watch after your friends and family when you are otherwise occupied.”

“Family?” Rin repeated. “You keep an eye on Kou?” A grin spread across his face. “Is she still sneaking up onto the roof all the time? I haven't caught her at it in years.”

Ai smiled. “She does,” he said. “That's often where she meets the Captain.”

The smile fell from Rin's face. “The Captain?”

“They discuss politics!” Ai said, almost so hastily that Rin disbelieved him. “What to do about food shortages. How to avoid riots.”

A little relieved, Rin sank back against the wall. “No funny business?”

“Her Highness flirts,” Ai said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other so shakily that he called to mind a palm tree buffeted by a sandstorm. “Captain Mikoshiba has made no such advances.”

Rin glanced at the door and furrowed his brow. Hell, his sister was the same age as Nagisa, and Rin had no qualms asking  _him_ to dance. “Let her flirt. Fuck, he can flirt back.” His eyes narrowed. “But if he so much as holds her hand without her explicit permission, I'm chasing hi s ass buck naked into the dunes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Okay, okay, it looks like people actually are interested. I'm...kind of surprised? But thank you for the support. I'll see this fic through to the end, even if it's not exactly what I'd choose to work on for myself, haha. In large part because I should really be [publishing more](http://www.amazon.com/Morgan-Bauman/e/B009KTK3RM/) so I can feed myself properly...
> 
> Oh well. It's a pleasant enough fic to write. I hope you all continue to enjoy it!))


	24. Chapter 24

Kou took thirty audiences before calling a lunch break, as she usually did. When she took her food to her quarters, however, she found Captain Mikoshiba standing outside.

“Something the matter, Captain?”

“I have something I'd like to discuss with you,” he said, opening the door for her.

She stepped inside, looking for a clear place to set her bowl of stew. Since she’d taken on the burden of shared rule with her brother, she’d had less and less time to herself. Their subjects didn’t just distrust and dislike Rin--they actively wanted to overthrow him. His personality could be grating, but it hardly warranted assassination attempts--and there had been far too many of those, even if Rin kept it hushed up. To protect him, she’d sneakily started taking on the lion’s share of the work while keeping him busy in his office.

As a result of her increased workload, her room had gotten a bit out of hand—papers cluttered the tables and chairs. Noting one idea she'd mentally scrapped a few hours earlier, she picked that page as a placemat and swept two piles on nearby chairs to the floor.

When she looked up, she found Mikoshiba still hesitating in the doorway.

“Cleared a seat for you,” she said cheerfully. “Mind if I eat while we talk? I've got another twenty people waiting for audiences and three meetings with counselors to get to before dinner.”

“Please,” he said, gesturing for her to continue. When she did, he carefully took the seat across from her. “Your Highness, I have come to make a petition of my own.”

She groaned and set down her spoon. “No more audiences until after lunch, please.”

“Forgive me. Of course this can wait.” He began to rise, and she stopped him with a wave of her hand.

“Just talk about other stuff until I'm done.” She drank a deep spoonful of broth and sighed, the tension of the morning's meetings leaving her. “You don't have to go.”

He nodded, lowering himself back into his seat, but he didn't say anything. She liked the captain's duality—light-hearted and serious by turns, he usually kept up a good conversation. But today she had the serious captain when she needed her silly one.

“Still injured?” she asked.

He touched his ribs, and she knew he was lying as he shook his head. “I'm mostly recovered, thank you.”

“Good.” Her own injuries still needed another week or two to recover, so she cut him off before he could return the question. “Think you'll be able to bench press me, then?”

“I think you're as likely to bench press me,” he said, shaking his head. “You carried me through the mob a few weeks ago. I didn't think anyone outside the guard could do that.”

“I bet I could take out most of your guard if I wanted to.” She grinned. “Rin and I have been training with Haru since I was—well, I couldn't have been older than five.”

“I didn't start until I was fifteen. Thought I was going to take over my dad's stall.”

Kou smiled, thinking of the bright and cheerful man who distributed produce in the center of town. “I could see that. What changed your mind?”

“When Prince Haruka's father—may his soul rest in peace—passed on, I wanted to do something to protect the royal family.” He smiled sheepishly. “Well, I guess you're the one who ended up protecting me.”

She tutted at him. “You sounded the alarm. And you never trained for a riot—you trained for police business and assassins. Different skill set.”

“As always, you have a point.” His eyes wandered to her half-empty bowl of stew, but he held up his hands in refusal when she tilted it toward him in offering. “Yet another reason you would make a good queen.”

Kou pointedly slurped her next spoonful of soup loudly enough that it drowned out his next sentence. Thankfully, he got the hint and changed tacks.

“Would you like to help train the guard?” he asked.

“No petitions while I'm eating.”

“This isn't my petition.”

“And I barely have time to sleep—when would I train them?”

“Close audiences for a few weeks.”

“There'll be riots.”

“The guards will be better equipped to deal with them.” His eyes darkened. “And both you and your brother will have a chance to rest. He's still coughing into his sleeves when he thinks no one's paying attention.”

“Beating up guards and calling it practice sounds like fun,” Kou agreed, “but things are tenuous enough as it is. Think about how it'd look to the villagers—stopping listening to them and taking a personal hand in training the guards. Training in techniques they've seen me use on rioters, no less!” She shook her head and set aside her empty bowl of soup. “You're no good at small talk today, Captain. Go on—make your petition.”

He squared his jaw. “Your Highness, the chances of an assassination attempt are higher than they have been at any point since I entered the guard. I would like to request permission to guard you personally.”

Kou tapped her chin thoughtfully. “You know that I'm more than capable of handling myself in most of these situations, right?”

“You have proved it beyond any doubt.” Pride warmed his expression, but concern touched his eyes after it had passed. “And yet.”

“And yet nobody can see out the back of their head?” When he nodded, she sighed. “A point well-made, Captain. What about my brother? He's borne the brunt of the backlash for the new policies, so he's the one with the target on his head.”

“I believe a team of guards would be better suited to guarding him for just that reason.” He sighed as he looked away. “You enjoy your privacy. I thought having a single guard might make that easier for you.”

“Very considerate,” she said dryly. “I remember you posting Rei outside of Nagisa's quarters. My brother implies that they've gotten quite close in the intervening months.”

“My sole motivation is to keep you safe,” Mikoshiba said, and he sounded so serious that she felt bad for teasing him.

“I wasn't trying to cast aspersions on your character,” she said, putting on her most regal voice. When he finally looked back up at her, she broke character and smiled. “I'm flirting with you.”

She hadn't thought it'd be much fun to spell it out for him, but she hadn't realized that it would make him go crimson to his roots—or that he'd develop a grin so ridiculously cheerful she wished she'd said something sooner.

“I think your brother would kill me,” he said brightly, “but I really do like your flirting. You're awfully cute, Your Highness.” His expression sobered. “However, I do mean it—my sole motivation is keeping you safe.”

Kou sighed heavily. “And I'm up to my ears in work. Flirting's about all I have time for.”

“So—when you suggested bench pressing—?”

Kou winked to watch him blush harder still. “Well, I do have _some_ free time, you know.”


	25. Chapter 25

Four guards stood in attendance on the private meeting. Rei and Captain Mikoshiba each took a place within the room; two others guarded it from outside the door.

Without Nagisa to distract him, Rei took exceeding care in his sweeps of the room—no nook or cranny went unexamined for more than twenty seconds. Between himself and the captain, he thought the room could be considered perfectly secure.

“I don't like it,” the prince said. His sister nodded in agreement beside him. “It's still a fucking powder keg out there, and it's been a good three months since the last riot. They have food. They have water. They have doctors and shelter and every fucking thing they could possibly need to get by. What else can we do?”

Makoto sighed heavily, and Rei resisted the urge to look at him rather than the room as he spoke. “Work alongside them.”

“Makoto, we all have work here in the palace,” the princess pointed out. “We need to keep things organized, or no one will get the supplies they need when they need them.”

“Most of those injured in the riots have healed,” Makoto said. “I'm not needed as I was before. I can help them in the fields.”

“Not a chance,” the prince snapped. “You're not going out there.”

“I will.”

Haruka's quiet voice sent ripples of discord throughout the room—so palpable that Rei did turn, this time, to glance at the calm, serious expression on his face. It took a moment to recover his scanning pattern as unease coiled in his stomach.

“You swore you wouldn't leave.” The prince's voice grew oddly hoarse. “You swore.”

“I don't do anything in the palace,” Haruka said, though his voice still sounded apathetic to Rei's ears. “I eat rations without working for them.”

“You get the rations you deserve.”

Haruka let out a long, quiet sigh. “Out on the dunes, I was free. I earned what I ate and drank.” He paused. “I'm restless.”

“You swore—”

“I will stay in the village,” he said. “If you want to keep me, don't cage me.”

“He's not trying to cage you, Haruka,” the princess said gently. “We want to keep you safe.”

“It's out of the question,” the prince said, as firm as Rei had ever heard him. “What other ideas have we got?”

Silence stretched across the room. As his sweep coasted over the prince, he caught him tugging at the back of his crown again. For a terrifying moment, their eyes met.

“Glasses?” the prince demanded. “You got something to say?”

“Both Mr. Tachibana and Mr. Nanase have a point.” Rei reached up to adjust his glasses, which were in a sorry state of repair, but at least kept his eyes keen enough for service. “Those in the village have limited exposure to palace workers.” He hesitated. “When I lived among them, I saw only the guards—and then only rarely. I would hazard a guess that most of your subjects have no idea that the palace also houses people of other occupations.”

“Or no occupation,” Haruka muttered.

Rei had never seen the prince's face so stone-smooth—he seemed to have been carved from marble. Only Rei stood close enough to hear his choked whisper, which revealed what his face did not. “I won't lose them.” He swallowed hard and spoke loudly enough to address the room. “Give me another option, Glasses.”

Rei looked away, remembering to scan the room for danger. “They could work outside and still live within the palace walls.”

“We can't have people breaching the defenses at all hours of the day and night,” the captain said.

Rei winced, remembering that it was Makoto's entry to the palace that had allowed in the second mob—the mob that could have killed Nagisa. “This is also true.”

“What else do they need?” the princess asked. “They're wanting and scared. If we can appease that, maybe we'll have peace.”

“They need a reason to have faith in us,” Makoto said. “Rin, you have to let us go. We can't sustain another riot—we lost too much water last time.”

The prince's eyes flitted to a particularly dank corner of the room, where Rei had twice now thought he'd spotted a young figure, only to have closer examination yield nothing at all. “We have to conserve water at all costs,” he agreed. “But there's no reason—” He broke off. “Someone else can work out there. I—the palace needs you both here.”

Makoto's eyes softened in understanding, but his voice brooked no argument. “I don't see another option.”

“I won't allow it!”

“A duel,” Haruka said, and the blood drained from the prince's face. “I have recovered enough for a fair match. The winner will decide who goes and who stays.” Tension drew across the room like a tightening noose; everyone seemed to struggle to breathe evenly. But Haruka's eyes did not waver as he looked at the prince. “Do you accept?”

The prince's hands shook as he clenched them into fists. “Haru, what the hell do you think you're doing? I hurt you last time.”

“I recovered,” Haruka insisted. “And you don't need us here. You are a fine king in your own right; you don't need us to rule.”

Rei fought the urge to cover his face; it would obscure his peripheral vision far too much to risk.

The prince bristled. “Fine. A duel, then.”


	26. Chapter 26

Makoto shifted his weight back and forth between his feet. He'd known Rin wouldn't like the idea, but he hadn't thought that Haru would join him. “You don't have to do this, Haru.”

Haru's face remained impassive, but Makoto could see through to his nervous heart. “Rin needs to know he can rule without us,” Haru said, his voice firm. “I'm not a king—I want to be an ordinary person. And ordinary people work outside the palace.”

Makoto glanced at Rin, and the hurt in his expression sent a swooping sense of grief through his chest. He hadn't wanted to leave Rin. He hadn't wanted Rin to leave after he'd pushed him and Haru together those long weeks ago. Hadn't wanted him to feel unwelcome. They had missed him the moment he'd disappeared out the door, but neither had gone after him. Instead they’d talked--about what Haru needed, what Rin needed, what they could do to keep each other safe. And then he’d been too afraid to reach out and bring Rin back into the conversation.

He regretted it now.

But the guilt from before—when he'd let the mob into the palace—when he hadn't been able to do anything to talk the villagers down without rage—gnawed at him. The only way to make amends would be to work among them and prove the palace's worth. Prove that they were people, too.

And it was the only way they could keep Rin safe. Assassination attempts had happened every day or every other day for the last three weeks—Makoto knew, even if no one else was well-connected enough to put the pieces together. They’d been summarily foiled--most attempts were little more than a commoner bullrushing Rin with a knife--but the frequency set Makoto’s teeth on edge. Just once, a woman had gotten within arm’s reach of him with a length of wire and nearly garroted him. Rin had noticed and ducked, kicking her knees out from under her, and his guards had been mortified.

Makoto still had nightmares about that moment.

He couldn't—absolutely couldn't—bear the thought of what might happen if Rin ever got caught alone and unawares.

“I wish he could come with us,” he murmured, despite that twisting fear. Even Haru didn't hear him. Clearing his throat, he raised his voice and smiled. “Good luck to the both of you.”

Haru might think that Rin wanted to keep them out of fear of his own inadequacies, but Makoto saw something else in Rin's face as they faced one another in the ring.

“Usual sparring rules?” Haru asked.

Rin nodded, and they both assumed their preferred stances.

Makoto had never been one for fights. They frightened him sometimes—too violent for his preferred style of dialogue, too many chances to hurt one another. But he could see the incredible grace of his friends as they moved, dodging and swinging in a rhythm that seemed to flow as smoothly as water from a spring.

It captivated all onlookers—out of the corner of his eye, Makoto could see Rei gaping. Rin's long years of practice and effort paired well with Haru's natural-born talent for finding and exploiting openings in his opponents' defenses. They'd trained together daily for more than a decade of their childhoods, and it showed. Rin knew when to feint to throw off Haru's steady rhythm, and Haru seemed to have an innate sense of where Rin would pull back.

An even match. For Haru, who had so much trouble with words, it had long been the clearest way to communicate with his hard-headed friend.

Makoto could give them the words they needed to hear. But he couldn't give them this—a visceral conversation held with hands and movement. Only they could have this argument on fair grounds.

He flinched every time either of them landed a blow, even though they weren't striking at full strength—a tap just meant a point in either's favor. He worried for Haru's health and Rin's pride and all of their safety.

“Their form is flawless,” Rei breathed beside him, awed. “I've never seen anything like it.”

“It's like they were made to work together,” Makoto agreed. If he unfocused his eyes just a bit, he could pretend they were dancing. “They've always been that way.”

Rin's foot skidded on the floor, and Haru took the opportunity to knock him off-balance. Moving too fast for Makoto to easily track, they tussled on the ground until Haru lay astride Rin, pinning him against the clay.

Before Makoto even had a chance to appreciate their sweaty, panting form, Haru rose to his feet and offered Rin his hand. “Good match.”

Rin knocked Haru's hand aside and stood on his own. “Fine. Get out.”

Pain flooded Haru's face. “Rin—”

“That's what you wanted.” Rin's hands tightened into fists at his side; his eyes remained fixed away from the group, and Makoto thought he might be hiding tears. “You won. Get out.”

Makoto took a step forward. “We're not really leaving, Rin—”

“And yet you're not really staying, either.” Rin breathed deep, and Makoto's heart clenched as his heard his voice shake. “There's a spare house beside the springs. It belonged to my parents before—well. It's in my name. Take it.”

With that, Rin turned on one heel and fled the room. His guards had to run to keep up with him—Rei didn't even take the time for a parting glance back at them before darting out the door.

“I'll talk to him,” Kou said. “Captain, if you will.”

“Of course.”

In moments, only Haru and Makoto remained in the room. Silence pressed down on them. Haru remained exactly where Rin had left him, his face unchanged, his hand still half-extended. Makoto laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“That's not what I meant,” Haru said, his voice detached.

“He just needs time,” Makoto said, squeezing his shoulder. “His pride is a little stung. He doesn't want you to leave.”

Haru's face remained still, his eyes fixed on the door, but he slowly lowered his arm.

“He gave us his childhood home,” Makoto said. “That has to count for something.”

When Haru finally turned to look at him, the grief in his eyes staggered him. He hadn't seen the fight that had sent Haru running into the dunes, but that lost look—he tightened his grip on Haru's shoulder as if to anchor him. He remembered all too well the awful months they'd passed after losing him before. He couldn't bear it a second time.

“Let's go home.”


	27. Chapter 27

Nagisa tossed and turned fitfully. Rin had been stalking around the palace like a thundercloud for days, his glare so fierce that everyone drew back from him when he passed—most held their breaths.

Rei's hand reached over to tip Nagisa's face up and look at him in the darkness. “What's wrong, Nagisa?”

“I miss Mako,” he said. He missed dancing for Rin, too—Rin had smiled sometimes, before. Nagisa wasn't sure he'd ever smile again. “Can we go visit them?”

“It's dangerous.” Rei frowned and touched the spot that had been injured during the riots three months earlier.

“I've got the best guard on staff at my side,” he argued. “Please, Rei? I'll give you a kiss.”

Rei rolled his eyes. “You'll want a kiss either way.”

Nagisa giggled and kissed Rei's nose. “Okay, you got me. But please?” He put on his best pouty face and nuzzled up against Rei's chest. “Please, Rei? I really miss them both.”

For a long moment, Rei's expression warred between a sympathetic frown and a stern glare. When both gave way to a sigh, Nagisa knew he'd won.

“Fine,” Rei agreed. “Get dressed.”

“Makoto won't care,” he said, rolling onto his belly and stretching to get a rise—so to speak—out of Rei. “Haru might not even notice.”

“I will most certainly notice and care,” Rei said, his blush vivid even in the darkness of their chambers.

“Oh, fine. But only for you, starlight.”

Rei rolled his eyes pointedly, but Nagisa caught the fond smile at the corner of his mouth and made a point of shaking his butt as he walked over to his dressers, relishing Rei's snort of laughter.

The guards at the palace gates weren't pleased about letting them out, but Nagisa just waited for Rei to put on his most authoritative I Know Better voice and let him do the convincing. In short order, they found themselves out under the night sky for the first time in longer than Nagisa could remember.

“How romantic,” he sighed, tugging Rei's arm around his waist.

“This is not an ideal arrangement,” Rei muttered even as he squeezed Nagisa's hips. “If I'm to guard you, my hands should be free.”

“But I like them so much better when they're occupied!”

They shared a tender smile and broke out into hushed laughter. Feeling at ease, Nagisa rested his head against Rei's chest as they walked. The night wind always kicked up the sands and rattled the roof tiles, but Rei was warm and steady and safe.

They'd hardly knocked at the door before Makoto appeared to usher them inside.

“I'm so sorry that we left without saying goodbye,” he said.

“It's okay,” Nagisa said. “It was all pretty sudden.” He peered around as Haru looked up from a cushion by the fire. The house was smaller than the room Makoto had in the palace; only a small pallet in the corner for sleeping and a small fireplace for cooking fit within. Their clothes sat in neatly folded piles at the foot of the pallet.

“Nagisa,” he said, nodding. “Rei.”

“I apologize for the intrusion,” Rei said.

“Let me guess—Nagisa's idea?” Makoto grinned. “I'm glad to see you both.”

“How is Rin?”

Nagisa bit his lip. “Still sulking,” he admitted. “I'm sure he'll feel better in a few days, though.”

Haru looked at the ground, and Nagisa wished he'd lied.

“I think Nagisa was hoping to hear some tales of the dunes,” Rei said abruptly. “Isn't that right, Nagisa?”

At this, Haru looked up. “You want to know?” He shot an unreadable look at Makoto, who frowned.

“I didn't want to press,” Makoto said in answer to the silent question. “I'm curious, too.”

Haru nodded and gestured to the other cushions. He'd been home for months, but it sounded like his first recounting of the adventure—he paused for long moments to gather his words and stopped often to reorder events.

For all that, Nagisa could vividly imagine the world he described. Haru had sought the sea, and he thought that the desert itself had been underwater sometime long, long ago. Shells and the skeletons of sea creatures littered the sands. The few creatures that yet lived did so on no water and little food; he'd wandered days without seeing another living being. Just empty and endless sands.

“We're meant to be in the water,” Haru said, gazing out the window at their oasis. “But the world has dried up.”

“That sounds so lonely.” Nagisa hugged his knees to his chest to drive back a sudden surge of sympathy.

Haru shrugged.

“And you never found the sea?” Rei asked. “Could you chart the path you took?”

He shook his head. “I charted the stars,” he said. “The dunes move. You can't map them.” For a moment, he looked farther away than ever. “I tried.”

Makoto reached out and took his hand. “I'm glad you came home.”

“I wasn't a prince out there,” he said. “I wasn't anybody but Haruka. And sometimes I wasn't even that.”

Nagisa shuddered and leaned against Rei. “You won't go again, will you?” he asked, his voice smaller and more afraid than he'd meant.

“No,” he said. “I gave my word. I will stay.”

An awkward silence settled across the room, thick as dust after a windstorm.

“There were skulls out there,” he said distantly. “Human skulls. The wind kicked up loose teeth.”

Makoto paled, and Haru's face shuttered with guilt.

“How are the work efforts?” Rei asked quickly. “Have the villagers accepted your offer?”

“They'd be hard-pressed not to,” Makoto said, his eyes still on Haru. “We're working on irrigation in the morning. Learned the ropes today.”

“We'd better let you get your sleep, then,” Rei said, standing. “Apologies again for the intrusion.”

“You don't have to go.” Makoto's eyes darted back and forth between Nagisa and Rei. “We could have a sleepover. Like the old days.”

Rei eyed the tiny pallet skeptically, and Nagisa had to share his doubt—he wasn't sure how it could fit both Haru and Makoto at the same time, let alone all four of them.

“Maybe you could have a sleepover with us sometime,” Nagisa offered. He put on an exaggerated yawn. “Rei says I hog the bed, though.”

“And the blankets.”

“And the pillows,” Makoto chimed in. “Don't think I've forgotten how you turn beds into nests.”

Nagisa laughed as he got to his feet and took Rei's hand. “I'll let you two have a night of actual sleep, then.”

“I envy you,” Rei said, heaving a long-suffering sigh. “I haven't had one in weeks.”

“Aw, I'm not that bad.”

“You talk.” Rei tousled his hair affectionately. “And I'm not even going to start on the snoring.”

“You snore, too.” Nagisa stuck out his tongue. “I bet they can hear you all the way out here!”

“I do no such thing.” Rei sniffed delicately and turned toward the door. “It's not beautiful at all.”

“My snores are beautiful,” Nagisa said, winking at Makoto. “What was it you compared them to, Rei? The snuffling of baby bunnies?”

Rei stiffened. “Thank you so much for having us,” he said, just a bit too loudly. “I'm afraid we have to take our leave now.”

Makoto tried to disguise his laugh as a cough, but Haru's face remained smooth and sad.

“See you,” he said, raising a hand in parting. For just a moment, Nagisa felt a pang of guilt for leaving after only a few hours.

“Hear us, more like,” Nagisa said, false cheer in his voice. “Rei snores like a sandstorm.”

At this, a tiny hint of a smile warmed Haru's face, and Nagisa remembered the young playmate he'd known as a child—stoic and stubborn but caring. Nagisa tipped his head in a parody of a bow, then took Rei's hand and left.

Even after getting home, though, foreboding kept him up until the first touches of dawn reached across the palace.


	28. Chapter 28

Haruka had never been forced to work, but, when personally motivated, he'd always done the work of three people. Rebuilding the necessary infrastructure of the kingdom to brace for the long and inevitable droughts they would face came easily to him as it didn't to the others. Even as he tried to become an ordinary person, he found himself standing out.

“See you at home,” Makoto said, clapping him on the back. “I need to go to a meeting in the palace.”

Haruka nodded and turned toward the bath houses to scrape himself clean of sweat and grime. It was his preferred reward for himself at the end of the day—better when he felt as though he'd really earned it.

When he stripped himself bare and made his way toward the private pool he loved so much, though, a shock of red hair caught his attention.

“Hey, Haru,” Rin said, meeting his gaze evenly. “Don't let me stop you.”

Haruka glanced around for guards, but saw none he recognized.

“Looking for the anti-privacy brigade? Keep looking. I snuck off,” Rin admitted. “I haven't had a moment alone in weeks.”

Haruka hesitated with one hand hovering above the water. “Should I leave you to your thoughts?”

“No,” Rin said. “I'm not mad at you, Haru.” He sighed heavily. “Actually, I kinda wanted to talk to you.”

Haruka settled onto the balls of his feet, scooping water from the pool to clean himself thoroughly before diving in. Contaminating the pools would be unforgivable. “What about?”

“The dunes.”

Haruka looked at him sharply but said nothing. A day's worth of dust clung to his sweaty skin; it would take a while to clean himself enough to enjoy the pool.

“What were they like?” Rin persisted. Something about his tone set Haruka on edge. “What did you need to bring with you?”

“Salt,” Haruka replied. “For preserving meat. I had a distiller, but I wish I'd brought a few more bottles to carry rainwater.”

Rin nodded, his gaze far away. “Where did you find water?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“Don’t wanna dry up under all that sun.”

Haruka’s hands stilled halfway down his leg. “You’re leaving.”

“Not forever,” Rin said, but his eyes avoided Haruka’s. “I just--I’ve got too much in my head right now. I need some space, and I can’t even bathe alone half the time.” He snorted. “The anti-privacy brigade is a bitch to sneak away from. I’ve been trying to get out here for a week.”

“I understand.” His throat constricted around the words; with some effort, he swallowed the lump. “You could hide with me and Makoto.”

Rin’s eyes darkened, and heat spread beneath Haruka’s skin. The cool water did nothing to ease it.

“How’s he doing?”

Haruka shrugged, scrubbing between his toes to avoid looking at Rin. “He misses you.”

Rin’s jaw tightened. “And you?”

He hesitated, then made himself meet Rin’s eyes. “I miss you,” he said seriously. “But if you need space, you need space.” It stung like sand in a windstorm--biting his eyes and lungs and filling him with needlepricks of pain. “Don’t bother with a camel,” he said. “They need too much food. There’s nothing out there.” His own camel had died some months into his journey; the guilt surged as he remembered. “You’ll need something to hunt with. Keep an eye out for vultures.”

Rin’s hand covered his, and his words ran out.

“Haru,” Rin began, his voice thick, but nothing followed it. His adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he withdrew his hand.

“You have to come back safe.” He couldn’t bear the unguarded look of Rin’s eyes and turned away to wash the last of the dust from his skin. “You have to.”

“I will.”

Haruka slid into the water beside him. As a child, he might’ve tried to hug Rin, but the distance felt so vast between them that he couldn’t bridge the chasm. He remembered the devastated look on Rin’s face after their duel and wondered for the first time whether he’d misunderstood the source of his grief. But the words, ‘I want you to stay,’ felt unfair. No one belonged in a cage.

They bathed in silence, barely looking at one another as the words Haruka wanted to say clotted uselessly in his throat.

 


	29. Chapter 29

Rin turned the crown over in his hands, staring past it. “I won’t be able to see you if I give it up?”

“You are the rightful king,” Ai said, then hesitated. “I do not know, Rin.”

“Why can’t Kou see you, then? Legally, she’s queen.” He blew a long strand of hair out of his eyes and looked up at Ai. “Hell, she does more work than I do. Thinks I haven’t noticed yet, but it’s all busy work for me. She’s the one running the kingdom.” He set the crown on the bed beside him.

“If this is about your friends—”

 

“That’s not an answer.” Rin shot his best irritated look at the spirit, who stood against the far wall of the room. “Why can’t she see you?”

Ai frowned. “She can,” he said. “She ignores me.”

“Probably thinks you’re a stress-induced hallucination.” Rin sighed and flopped sideways on his bed, curling around the crown. “It took me weeks to take you seriously.”

“You saw me more readily than most. Sometimes it takes years.”

“And yet Glasses keeps staring at you and frowning,” Rin said. “You sure that only royalty can see you?”

Nitori’s face pinched with thought. “I have been restricted to the palace more often than not,” he admitted. “I was not granted permission to interact with others.”

“Well, let’s try an experiment, then, shall we?” Rin traced the edges of the crown. “I’ll give the crown to Kou and leave.”

“I can fend off assassination attempts,” Ai said, darkness like a desert storm gathering around him. “If you would grant me permission, I could poison the dissenters with every drop of water they take in—”

“Okay, see, that’s the problem.” He covered his face. “Ai, you do know that they’d think I had secret police poisoning them? And these are my subjects—I’m supposed to protect them.” Behind his hands, he frowned. “Even if I’m not the one they want.”

“Please don’t leave!”

Rin’s head snapped up at the grief in Ai’s voice. Tears pooled in his eyes and streaked down his cheeks, too wide and wet to be human. He wavered in the air like a mirage.

“Come with me,” Rin said. “Fuck, Ai, they’re gonna get past the guards one of these days. They don’t want me to be king, and I’m not—” His voice broke. “I’m not good enough to be king.”

And there was the hard truth of the matter. He’d come to terms with it when Haru defeated him at hand to hand combat, but he’d had the inkling for much, much longer. All he’d ever wanted was to live up to the shadow of his adoptive father, to make the spirit of his birth father proud.

But Kou led more effectively. A careful conversation or three with the Captain had confirmed his suspicions about that. He had appointed the Captain for his honesty, even if he’d been too chickenshit to avail himself of it for the last year—ever since Haru had come home, really.

“You’re a good ruler,” he had said, “But you’re not yourself right now, and it shows. You can be better than this.”

It had hurt like hell, but the Captain had been right. That was the worst part of it: knowing with absolute certainty that he could be better than this. He had too much envy and—and other things cluttering his mind. He snapped at his subjects. They needed to trust him, but he’d been antagonistic for so long.

“You are good enough to be king, Rin.”

“Not yet.” Rin pushed himself to his feet and steeled himself as he reached out to set a hand on Ai’s shoulder. “Come with me.”

“I can’t; I’m bound to the water,” Ai said, but his brow creased thoughtfully. “I’m bound to the water,” he repeated slowly. “If you kept a bottle on your person…”

Hope surged in Rin’s chest. “Easy.” He squeezed Ai’s shoulder and then let go, heat rising in his face. “The hard part’s going to be talking to Kou.”

“I’ll make arrangements,” Ai said. “I’ll locate the necessary supplies; talk to her.”

Rin sighed heavily as he picked up the crown, turning it over once again in his hands. When he turned back, Ai had gone.

His four guards always watched him like a fucking hawk; they only waited outside when he demanded privacy. As he left his quarters, they formed a protective barrier around him that felt too much like a cage. After three months of this, he’d rather have another round with the woman who’d tried to garrott him than deal with the constant scrutiny for one more goddamn minute.

“My sister’s not gonna off me,” he insisted, blocking the door to her room. “And I sure as hell know that the Captain wouldn’t let anyone near her quarters.”

He didn’t knock until they’d given him enough room to breathe. “Sis? We need to talk.”

The door swung open before he’d had time to hide his wince. Captain Mikoshiba towered over him, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Come on in, Bro,” Kou called, and the Captain stepped out of the way to admit him. At least he showed some sense—he stayed out of the room as he closed the door behind Rin. Maybe it was as much to avoid Kou’s piercing look as anything. She fixed her most intent stare on Rin, too serious and tired by half. “What’s going on this time?”

Rin held out the crown to her, and she closed her eyes as if gripped in silent prayer.

“I don’t want it.”

“They’re not gonna stab you for it,” he said. When she paled, he stepped forward, brandishing it. “They fucking adore you, Kou. You’re safe.”

“We’re keeping you safe,” she said, but her voice faltered. “They won’t leave you alone even if you give up the crown.”

“That’s why I’m leaving.”

She opened her eyes again, and the grief that flashed across her face reminded him sharply that he was all the family she had left. “You aren’t.”

“The Captain’s right; I’m a fuck up.” He ran a hand through his hair and turned away. “He didn’t say it in so many words, but it’s the truth. I could be better than this. I—I need to sort my shit out.”

“You can do that here.”

“With the anti-privacy brigade breathing down my neck?” He snorted. “Fat chance.”

Her face had calmed, but her hands remained fists at her side. “Just because Haru came back safely doesn’t mean you will.”

That stung, too, but she had a point. Haru had an affinity with water and a way of keeping calm no matter how dangerous things got. Time to combat honesty with honesty. “Well, I’m hitting the dunes with a water spirit in tow, so that’s one point in my favor.”

She didn’t quite look at him as if he’d lost his mind, but deep skepticism lined her face. “Uh huh.”

“You’ve seen him,” Rin insisted. “Gray hair, blue eyes. Shimmers in corners and moves like a spring pouring out.”

The skepticism lifted from her face. “God, I thought I was losing it.”

“He’s the spirit of our oasis,” he said. “I’m bringing him—or maybe part of him—in a bottle with me. Think of it as long-distance communication.” Rin hoped it wasn’t actually a lie—Ai could probably manage something like that, right? “So I’m not going alone.”

Kou stared at him, and he held her gaze as evenly as he could. After a moment, she let out an exasperated huff and snatched the crown from his hands.

“As regent during your absence,” she said, using her most regal voice, “I hereby decree that you are an idiot, but I love you, and you have to come home safe.”

“I will,” he promised, and her calm expression splintered as her lower lip shook and she started to blink back tears.

“And you have to come back as Rin,” she insisted. “Rin, my brother. Not—not this.” Her voice cracked as she gestured at him, indicating all of him. “I miss you.”

His chest felt too tight. It took more effort than it should have to pull his little sister into a hug. “That’s what I’m looking for,” he said, thinking back to the days when he’d just felt excited about serving his people, not trapped and angry and alone. It had been so long. “I just can’t find that here.”

She buried her face in his shirt and sniffed hard. “Okay.” Her voice didn’t shake this time; her strength had always cowed him. “But if you die out there, I’ll kill you.”


	30. Chapter 29b - Nitori

Ai had never attempted to leave his own waters behind. Until Rin had asked it of him, it’d been unthinkable. The waters were more than his home; they comprised his very being. The reflection he offered in the palace was little more than a mirage--a combination of heat and the desire for water.

Or so he’d thought until Rin’s hand had brushed his cheek. Maybe he had come into existence at that moment. Maybe Rin’s faith in him would give him the strength to leave himself behind, to forge a new body to house his spirit.

He focused all of himself on the flask at Rin’s hip and pushed forward beneath the blistering sun.

“Are you okay?” Rin asked, concern wrinkling his brow. “We’re about a mile out now. If it’s too much, I can let you--”

“I’m fine,” he lied. Agony shredded his body like sand cracking in the heat, but he put on a bright smile. “It seems I’m still visible, then?”

“And audible,” Rin agreed. “And I can tell that you’re lying.”

“Just distracted,” he said. Turning his gaze inward, he reached back to the palace and wandered its halls. “I can still see them.”

At this, relief washed over Rin’s face. “Is Kou okay?”

Ai found his way to her quarters and passed through the wall to peek inside. “She’s crying,” he admitted. “Would you like me to speak to her on your behalf?”

“No,” he said. “You look wrung out as it is.”

Ai homed in on the flask at Rin’s hip once again, gingerly detaching himself from the rest of his body. “I’ll be fine,” he insisted. The fact that Rin could see him even when he only half-projected himself reaffirmed his faith that he deserved the crown, but he did not speak of it.

“You sure as hell don’t look fine,” Rin muttered, looking sidelong at him. It might have been inaudible to human ears, but the words vibrated through his core, rippling the water in the flask at his hip, and Ai could not have mistaken his words in even the fiercest sandstorm. Even so, he found himself surprised when Rin stopped and dropped to his knees. When Ai made no move, Rin made an impatient gesture at his back. “Hop on.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Except I am,” Rin said, rolling his eyes. “Funny how everybody thinks they can tell me what I can and can’t do. Who’s the fucking prince?”

“You are, of course,” Ai replied haltingly. “But, my liege--”

“Hop on.”

The command was impossible to ignore. Ai acquiesced, and Rin tucked his arms beneath Ai’s knees to support him.

He stood with surprising ease. “That any better?”

Ai rested his forehead against the crook of Rin’s neck. The perspiration there anchored him as much as the flask; the closer proximity reduced the rending pain to a mild ache throughout his body.

“Yes.”

Rin set off again. The physical contact felt--strange. He hadn’t known humans could touch him, even though he’d spent long centuries alongside them. They hadn’t tried. The others of his kind had not embraced the human concept of physical affection--after all, they’d never bothered with projections around one another. They’d simply felt each others’ presence as their waters ran by one another. The desert itself isolated them.

Rin felt solid in a way sand and silt and stone didn’t.

“Rin.” He hesitated. “Am I heavy?”

“No heavier than the flask.” Rin snorted. “If you were human, I’d insist on increasing your rations.”

Ai smiled against Rin’s neck. “Fortunately for both of us, I need no sustenance.”

“Considering how little we’re going to find out here, that’s for the best.” Rin scanned the horizon. “There’s supposed to be an ocean out there somewhere. Do you know where it is?”

He pointed toward the northeast, where the pull of water felt strongest. “It is much farther than you imagine,” he cautioned.

“If there’s anything I’ve got, it’s time. Think you can point me to water sources on the way?”

He could feel them pulsing on his mental map of the surrounding terrain; they drew him toward them like iron filings to a magnet. “Yes,” he said. “There are not many.”

“I don’t need buckets of water.” Rin patted his satchel, jostling Ai. “I just need mouthfuls.”

Ai wanted to argue, but the distance had already stretched him so thin that he didn’t have the strength. He kept a splintered piece of himself grounded in their oasis, but most of him remained with Rin. Though the aches in his joints came close to overwhelming him, he took strength and solace in Rin’s sturdy form. Spirits could not sleep as humans did--they did not dream, and they did not lose their grasp on their surroundings--but the steady rocking of Rin’s gait eventually lulled him to rest.

 


	31. Chapter 31

The crown pinched at her forehead and left creases behind her ears where it dug into the skin. No wonder Rin had tugged at it so often--Kou had never worn anything so uncomfortable in her entire life. It didn’t fit her.

“Are you all right?”

She had a hunch that Seijuurou wasn’t asking about the crown, but she didn’t ask for clarification before shrugging.

“Prince Rin will be fine,” Seijuurou said. His voice was comforting and reassuring most of the time, but Kou didn’t feel any better.

“I know,” she said, despite her doubts.

“And you will be an excellent ruler in his stead.”

“So you keep saying.” Kou’s jaw tightened of its own accord, but she tried to keep her tone light. “I’ve been running the kingdom for months now, so it’s not like anything’s really changing. I just won’t have to dig up busy work for my big bro.”

He examined her, concern etched into the creases between his brows. “You really don’t want to be queen.”

“No.” She tried to laugh, but it sounded dry and unpleasant. “Not really my shtick.”

“What is it you want, then?”

Kou turned to stare at the papers littering her desk, but her eyes wouldn’t focus on them. “A quiet life,” she said, voice low. “I’d like to help people, but I also want some days off every once in a while.”

She tried to picture it. Though she could see herself governing in Rin’s absence--could even see herself doing well at the task--she couldn’t imagine continuing indefinitely. It felt like a stone hanging around her neck to visualize herself at sixty, seventy, eighty, still shackled to the throne and its duties. She shuddered. Princess of the last bastion of humanity. What a lonely job.

Sure, she’d been flirting with Seijuurou for over a year, but the idea of asking him to take on any part of her burden didn’t sit well with her. Looking at him with her peripheral vision, she thought about the quiet life she’d hoped for. A peaceful kingdom ruled by her brother would make for a good home. She could see herself coming home to Seijururou and demanding backrubs from him after a long day helping Rin and their subjects. A minor government position--just difficult enough to be meaningful without being so vital she couldn’t take a day off. Or maybe a week, when it suited her.

That easygoing life seemed so far away from her rioting kingdom as her brother ran off into an unpopulated wasteland.

Seijuurou watched her with intense, serious eyes, and she thought that, if anyone could handle being Imperial Consort, it would have to be him. A warm demeanor in private, but a reasonable and official public face.

Kou smiled. She could do worse.

“Glad I’ve got you at my side,” she said, reaching over to pat the back of his hand.

He covered her hand with his and squeezed it. “As long as you require my services, Your Highness.”

“Kou.” She pulled off the uncomfortable crown with her free hand and glared at it. “I think we’ve been through enough to be on a first name basis.”

He smiled broadly and rubbed a thumb against the back of her hand. “I consider it an honor.”

“I’d consider it an honor if you gave me a neck massage.” She took her hand back to rub a particularly sore spot near her shoulders and groaned. “I was up all night at my desk.”

To his credit, he didn’t turn red--he just looked friendly and sympathetic as he nodded.

Settling down with her back to him, she tucked her ponytail over her shoulder and tipped her head forward. His fingers were broad and warm against her shoulders, and his thumbs focused on the knots at the base of her neck.

“Too gentle,” she complained. As he increased pressure, she sighed. “Ahh, that’s the stuff.”

She would’ve bet her next meal on him blushing in response, but she was too busy melting to turn back and check. His hands could cover most of her shoulders without trouble; she felt safe in his care. He’d clearly learned how to look after sore or kinked muscles in his time as a guard; she’d have to ask him for massages more often.

True to her expectations, his hands never wandered. Serious and steady. In her current position, though, it was too easy to imagine those hands running down her back and gripping her hips. Even easier to imagine turning around and running her own hands over the chiseled muscles of his back.

What would his butt feel like? She suddenly wanted to know.

“How’s that, Kou?”

His voice startled her out of her increasingly sordid thoughts. Gingerly stretching her neck and shoulders, she found herself in top form once again. “I think I could do with a little more just below my shoulder blades,” she lied. She made a point of untying her ponytail and letting down her hair. “Maybe I should lie down--might make things easier.”

His hands stilled, but he said nothing.

Nervousness pounded in her ears, chasing back the arousal. “Never mind. I guess that’s inappropriate.” She sighed heavily and pulled away from him. “I wish I weren’t a princess.”

“You make an excellent princess, Kou.”

“Not what I was talking about.” She went over to her bed, where she curled up on her side to avoid eye contact.

The Princess and the Captain of the Guard might sound like a fairy tale, but that was exactly why it wouldn’t work. The villagers distrusted the guard and government enough as it was, and they made enough insinuations about the two being in a proverbial bed together without anyone actually doing any real bedding. They might like her better than Rin, but she’d lose any advantage she might hold if they actually suspected her of openly favoring the guards--and how else would they see it?

“Are you all right?”

“I’ll be fine.” That was true enough, at least--everybody in the palace dealt with sexual frustration, and duty came before she did. Romantic frustration was harder to ease on her own, but it felt silly to want someone to ruffle her hair and squeeze her shoulders and kiss her forehead. There was so much more at stake.

“You don’t sound fine.”

“Just feeling a little lonely, I guess.” When they’d shared the throne, she’d at least had the chance to commiserate with Rin. She could focus on hooking him up and forget about her own bachelorettehood, too, which always made him turn red. She pressed a hand to her chest as if to force back the sudden ache. “I hope Rin comes home soon.”

He got to his feet and walked over to her bedside, hesitating. When she looked hopefully up at him, he sat near her head and stroked her hair in silence.

Not quite the ravishing she’d had in mind, but her eyelids grew heavy as he ran his fingers through her curls. The tension left her, and she slept for the first time in more than forty hours.


	32. Outline of What Could Have Been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone. I'm sorry to do this to you, but I'm just getting too many messages complaining about this fic, its pairings, its plot, its everything. I'm too sick to function, and each chapter takes me at least three hours. It's not worth writing this, especially since I've never actually *liked* this fic. I wrote it for money to cover medical costs--and, once the money stopped, I wrote it out of a sense of misguided obligation to hypothetical readers.
> 
> Some of you have been wonderful. I appreciate every single comment that people have left supporting me. I doubt I'll come back to flesh out this story, so please don't get your hopes up too much. 
> 
> In brighter news, I finally got a wheelchair, so I should be able to leave the house again. I've been homebound for nearly two years now.
> 
> I'm sorry to leave you with a chapter fragment and an outline, but I just can't work on this fic any longer. I hope at least a few of you enjoyed it.

Chapter 30b

(Mikoshiba) Mikoshiba comes to understand Kou better. He still admires her, but the hero worship fades to genuine human appreciation.

***

Chapter 31

As a guard, Rei felt well accustomed to observation. At all times, he prepared his mind and body to fend off all threats his charge might face. He could maximize his peripheral vision, his reaction speed, and his nonlethal takedowns in such a way that he felt almost glamorous.

In the fields, however, he had anticipated finding nothing at all of interest to observe. He felt much less in his element knee-deep in dirt than he did in his immaculate uniform. Pulling weeds and redirecting irrigation could hardly compare to the beautiful work he'd seen and done in his duties at the palace.

Or so he would have said a few weeks before, but Nagisa had a talent for surprising him.

"Rei," Nagisa said, turning his name into an entire sentence--fondness commingled with exasperation. When Rei didn't respond, he huffed and straightened, stretching toward the sun. "Your stares are flattering, but you're leaving me with all the hard work!"

Rei's face grew hot with embarrassment. "Forgive me," he said automatically, then frowned as indignation rankled in his stomach. "I've been working as well. These channels are being built to the specifications I laid out in my own petition to the princess."

"Uh huh." Nagisa rolled his eyes. "I don't think you wrote those down on my butt, sweetie, so staring's not going to refresh your memory." He winked and turned back to his work, humming cheerfully.

Rei had never seen Nagisa devote himself to anything other than dancing. All of their free hours together had been spent lazing about and cuddling, and Rei had developed the impression that Nagisa didn't like to work.

Apparently he'd been mistaken.

They'd been at work in the fields for weeks now, and Nagisa hadn't once shirked his duties. I'm fact, he threw himself into the task wholeheartedly. His bright and determined grin brought beauty to an otherwise dreary task unworthy of Rei’s mental and physical faculties. But watching Nagisa use his full weight to drive his shovel into the sand reminded Rei starkly that, for all the easy grace his dancing held, it was still athleticism in its purest form.

“I didn’t expect you to be so…” Rei trailed off, his vocabulary failing him, and he gestured weakly at Nagisa.

“Filthy?” he replied, tossing a shovel full of dry earth onto what would eventually be the bank of the canal. “Rugged?”

“Enthusiastic.”

At that, Nagisa laughed. “When have I ever not been enthusiastic about something important, goofball?”

 

(Rei) He's been working in the fields alongside Nagisa. He hadn't known that Nagisa could focus and work at anything quite so labor-intensive. He hadn't thought such a thing could be beautiful, but Nagisa proves him wrong. He gives him a massage for his trouble and receives a somewhat more flirtatious one in return.

***

Chapter 32

(Makoto) The village is faring well, but he can tell that Haru is suffering. And he is, too. He misses Rin. He tries to comfort Haru anyway. Truth be told, Haru is asexual, but not aromantic. They have a lengthy discussion about what they both want.

***

Chapter 33

(Nagisa) They've been courting for the better part of a year, and he still hasn't gotten Rei into his bed except for sleep and snuggles. Now that he's recovered, it's time to initiate Project: Seduction and teach Rei how to pole dance.

***

Chapter 34

(Haruka) Rin has been gone for more than three months, and he thinks he finally understands the agony Makoto and he experienced when Haru left. Late at night, he apologizes for this to Makoto.

***

Chapter 35a

(Rin) The desert is so much drier than he'd expected. He thought he could be clear-headed out in the dunes, but dehydration makes him foggy. Nitori insists that he needs to drink the last of the water—the water that's binding Nitori to him—or he'll die. It becomes apparent that Nitori will die if he does this, as he's so far uprooted from his own waters. Rin turns back instead.

***

Chapter 35b

(Nitori) Nitori attempts to guide Rin repeatedly to water. He can sense the distant sea and knows that Rin is closer to that than to his homeland. He tries to reason with Rin to save his life, but Rin is stubborn—he insists on saving Nitori's, as well.

***

Chapter 36a

(Kou) She visits Makoto and Haruka to see whether there’s anything she can do to help speed the recovery process and make the commoners more at ease. She gets closer to Mikoshiba.

***

Chapter 36b

(Mikoshiba) At Kou's direction, he takes his guards to help work in the fields in the hopes of building goodwill with the villagers. He works alongside Kou and marvels at her work ethic and determination.

***

Chapter 37

(Rei) With the additional help from the guards and merchants, they finally complete the irrigation changes and finish fine-tuning the other conservation measures. He surveys his work with pride, and, feeling full of confidence, he formally asks for Nagisa's hand in marriage.

***

Chapter 38

(Makoto) He talks seriously with Kou, who's distressed by the idea that her brother just won't come back. It's been almost a year without him, and her birthday has come and gone. She wants nothing to do with the crown. During the conversation, Makoto notices Kou hallucinating—she keeps talking about a ghost in the corner. (in truth, it's Nitori) It scares her when he says that Rin is safely on his way home.

***

Chapter 39

(Nagisa) He doesn't want to have the wedding until Rin returns. Rei is worried he won't come back, but Nagisa is confident—or pretends to be. They talk about the future.

***

Chapter 40

(Haruka) His work in the village is done for the moment. He considers leaving to look for Rin, who's been gone for more than a year, but decides not to force his decisions.

***

Chapter 41

(Rin) Nitori talks him through the journey home—he's as sure as a compass, and he helps Rin sort out his sulk. When he finally returns to challenge Haruka to another duel, he realizes that he doesn't care whether or not he wins. He doesn't want to fight. Instead, he pulls Haru into a hug and cries for the lost years they could have had together. Haru then gives him the confidence to accept the crown back from Kou.

***

Chapter 42

(Kou/Mikoshiba) She attends Nagisa's wedding. Freed from her ruling obligations, Kou catches the bouquet-equivalent and asks Mikoshiba out. It rains.

**Author's Note:**

> The chapters cycle through six perspectives:  
> 1\. Rei  
> 2\. Makoto  
> 3\. Nagisa  
> 4\. Haruka  
> 5\. Rin  
> 6\. Kou
> 
> So if you miss your favorite character, it's just a matter of time until they come back!


End file.
